Stole Soul Picnic
by San Antonio Rose
Summary: When Hell's civil war spills beyond Earth's borders, no part of the universe is safe. Now hunters and Tok'ra must reunite to save not only their friends and some old enemies but also those who would not deign to get involved. (Sequel to "For Love Is Strong As Death," AU, SPN/SGA/SG-1; background Dean/Lisa; WIP)
1. Prologue: The New Sheriffs

General A/N: I'm posting this story as a WIP. I therefore make no promises as to the speed or frequency of updates. Reviews _may_ help prod the muse—but I'll be finishing it eventually regardless, so please don't think I'm trying to hold the story hostage! RL is just enough of a bear that updates may take a while.

Many thanks to my wonderful betas, jennytork and ansostuff!

Chapter A/N: This prologue is a missing scene from "For Love Is Strong as Death." If you haven't read the _Tok'ra Apocalypse_ trilogy before, I recommend that you do so before moving on to the rest of this story, since I won't be reviewing all of its events here.

* * *

Stole Soul Picnic  
By San Antonio Rose

Prologue  
The New Sheriffs

May 2010

Dean Winchester and his Tok'ra symbiote Dishon were settled in Cicero, Indiana, with Lisa Braeden and her son Ben. Sam Winchester and his symbiote Salim were locked in Lucifer's Cage after besting both Lucifer and Michael, and they had forbidden any attempt at rescue, intending instead to make their own way out of Hell by the safest route. Bobby Singer was well and back in the swing of hunting, and Homeworld Command had gone back to its normal routines.

The Apocalypse was thwarted. And the angels Gabriel and Castiel had little left to do on Earth.

Finally, after checking the wards at Cheyenne Mountain one last time, Gabriel turned to Castiel with a sigh. "C'mon, little brother. Guess it's time to face the music, head Home."

Castiel grimaced. "Must we? Raphael and I didn't part on good terms when last we met."

"Yeah, and the time before that, he exploded you. But we need to go make sure he doesn't get any stupid ideas about trying to restart the war."

"You think he might?"

"Let's just say I'll be pleasantly surprised if I don't have to knock some sense into him."

Castiel heaved a heavy sigh. Gabriel grabbed him gently by the back of the neck, gave it a sympathetic squeeze, and flew both of them back to Heaven.

Sure enough, they arrived just as Raphael was beginning an address to the Host. "The humans have succeeded in returning Lucifer to his Cage," he was saying as Gabriel stopped to lounge in the doorway of the illusory hall where the meeting was taking place and motioned for Castiel to do likewise, "but that should be seen only as a temporary setback. As soon as is reasonable, we need to retrieve at least Michael, if not Lucifer, so that the battle can be fought as it was foretold. This is Our Father's will."

The other angels bowed their heads in acknowledgment, some more reluctantly than others, but Gabriel called, "What in all eternity makes you think _that_, Rapha?"

The angels' surprise was palpable as they turned to look at the latecomers. Even Raphael looked startled as he replied, "Gabriel! Castiel! I thought—I feared—"

"I'm not dead yet. And baby brother here's not dead... again. You didn't answer my question."

"Why would it not be Father's will? I want it."

"Kid, did you ever stop to think that if Dad really wanted this to play out according to this cockeyed prophecy, it would not have taken the combined efforts of Heaven and Hell to drive the Winchesters apart, and Sam would _never_ have been able to overpower Luci? Never mind allowing Mike to get pulled in with him!"

Raphael scowled. "You've grown irreverent, brother."

"_Ad hominem_. Or in this case, _ad angelum_. Try again."

"You believed once."

"Oh, I still believe Dad. But as much as I want the fighting to stop, Sam and Dean made me realize this ain't the way, not Dad's way. We're supposed to _serve_ humans, Rapha, not kill them off like they're some kind of pest just because they're sinful. It's not like we're perfect."

"You would let wickedness go unpunished?"

"Hellooo? Agent of poetic justice, here! Aren't you the one who's supposed to be interested in _healing_?" Gabriel was trying to keep his quick temper in check, but he wasn't sure how long he'd succeed.

Raphael's jaw twitched—a very human gesture of annoyance that he evidently wasn't aware he'd picked up from his vessel. Then he turned his scowl on Castiel, who wasn't leaning against the doorframe like Gabriel but was still clearly standing with him. "And you, Castiel? Do you deny that this plan is Father's will? You cannot have forgotten the last time you openly defied the Host."

Castiel's wings—four of them now—flared out in anger, though his face and voice remained calm. "You are not the arbiter of right and wrong, Raphael. Father is. We were wrong to treat the Winchesters as we did, and you and Michael were wrong to use Anna against them and to coerce me into releasing Sam to kill Lilith. The world must end someday, but it must end in Father's time, and it will not end at the hands of Sam and Dean. If we act without Father's blessing, Lucifer is stronger than any of us, even Michael... and though he did not mean to, Zachariah proved to me that we cannot defeat Lucifer this way. _Many_ will suffer, brother, humans killed by disaster and war or turned by Lucifer's virus, angels killed by Lucifer or dispirited by defeat—some dispirited enough to fall and join him, others at best relegated to a life of human suffering we do not know how to bear with human grace."

Raphael's scowl turned into a puzzled frown. "When did Zachariah do this?"

"Some months ago, he showed Dean the state of the world in 2014 if he kept his distance from both Sam and Michael. Dean didn't confide much to me, but there were times that I sought to speak with him in his dreams and happened upon a nightmare of those memories."

"What virus do you speak of?"

Castiel explained about Croatoan, giving as vivid a description as he could of its effects. He didn't reveal that the medical team in Atlantis had devised a vaccine, in part because it would undermine his point, but mostly because there was no guarantee that it could be manufactured and distributed quickly enough should Lucifer return and restore Pestilence to his full strength.

There was a long silence after he finished. Then a junior angel left his place in the assembly and walked back to stand beside Castiel.

Raphael blinked. "Balthazar?"

"You lot do what you want," Balthazar replied, sounding surprisingly like his British vessel. "As for me, I'm going to follow my dear friend and the Messenger, both of whom seem to be on Father's good side, rather than some ridiculous scheme that's stunk like Lucifer to me from the start. I mean, if this were destiny, would we have had to resort to _time travel_ to get the pieces into place?"

At that, an angel whose vessel was a blonde woman slipped out of her place and strode back to join the other three. "I don't claim to understand," she said, "but I trust my brother Castiel. If he is following Gabriel, I will do the same."

Castiel smiled gently at her. "Thank you, Rachel."

More angels followed, first singly, then two and three and ten at a time, until roughly half of the Host had clearly chosen to side with Gabriel and Castiel. Those who remained or edged closer to Raphael—many of them among the upper echelons of Heaven—looked at one another nervously, unsure whether to believe that Gabriel actually had a point or to cling to this plan in which they had, possibly wrongly, invested so much time and effort.

Raphael, on the other hand, just looked confused at this unusual show of defiance. Finally, clearly lost for another way to try to win back support from Gabriel short of open civil war, he called, "Will someone go get Joshua?"

"There's no need," the gardener angel replied, appearing at one side of the hall between the two factions. "I've just heard from Father."

Raphael was visibly shocked, but he hid it swiftly. "And?"

"He asked you to consider what it was that gave Sam the power to overcome Lucifer, which no human should have been able to do."

Raphael shook his head in confusion, but Gabriel replied, "Love."

Joshua nodded. "That's right. Dean's love for Sam, refusing to let him die alone. Sam's love for Dean, refusing to let Lucifer beat him to death. Lucifer didn't understand that. I'm not sure Michael did, either. Do we?"

Gabriel ached to his very grace. Even Lucifer had seemed reluctant to kill him, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his brothers and sisters treat each other the way Sam and Dean had those last few months. The world called them codependent, but if one looked past the unhealthy shape their upbringing had given their relationship, weren't there virtues there that the Host could learn from?

Raphael looked lost, but he did eventually make eye contact with Gabriel.

"Please, bro," Gabriel pleaded quietly. "Stop the fighting."

Raphael huffed with a small, sad smile. "You, who bear Father's might, want nothing more than to end our strife."

"I'll bring Dad's might down on your head if I have to, Rapha. Don't make me do that."

Raphael wavered for another long moment before he sighed. "No. You are the Messenger, the elder, and the stronger. I will yield."

Any disappointment the most hardened of Raphael's followers might have felt was drowned in the wave of relief that rippled from the rest of the Host like a silent sigh. Gabriel grinned at Castiel, then snapped his fingers, and a box of assorted chocolates adorned with a cheekily grinning 'cherub' appeared in Raphael's hand.

Raphael blinked and looked down at it in confusion. "What is this?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Peace offering."

"But why this?"

Gabriel was pleasantly surprised to hear Castiel answer, "Dean says life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you will get."

Gabriel couldn't help it. He laughed for a solid Earth minute.


	2. Ch 1: Just Another Day in Outer Space

Chapter 1  
Just Another Day in Outer Space

August 2011

Dr. Radek Zelenka's day was _not_ going well.

Part of the problem was that the experiment on which he had his team working had not been producing results as it should. This morning he had finally broken down and called in Dean, since the mechanism they were trying to use appeared to need someone with a stronger Ancient Technology Activation gene than any of the therapy-induced carriers on the team had. Radek himself didn't have the ATA gene at all, and both Lt. Col. John Sheppard and Dr. Rodney McKay, whose genes (natural and induced, respectively) were strongest, were busy with other urgent projects elsewhere in Atlantis. Since their arrival in the city the previous November, Sam and Dean were the next strongest natural gene carriers available; Sam was still busy working on the Coalition law database, but Dean, who was assigned to Radek's department as an engineer, wasn't doing anything that day that couldn't be reassigned to someone else. Barely had Dean located the problem and begun fixing it, however, when the infamously ill-tempered Dr. Peter Kavanagh, who had arrived a few hours earlier on the _Daedalus_, wandered into the lab to offer his assistance.

"No, thanks," Dean said pleasantly without looking away from the device he was adjusting. "I'm gettin' it."

These two men had never met before, so neither knew the other's temperament or sore spots. Yet Kavanagh seemed to have an uncanny knack for irritating everyone, and Dean was quickly to prove no exception. Kavanagh looked over the device Dean was working on and the method Dean was using to fix it and scowled. "That's a very delicate piece of Ancient technology..." He paused, waiting for Dean's name.

"Jones," Dean lied. "I know that."

"You can't treat it like... like it's a car!"

Dean replied in Goa'uld. Radek didn't want to know what he'd said, but he could guess that the Czech phrases running through his own mind were probably close equivalents.

"No, no, you are _doing it wrong!_ Where the hell did you get your PhD, out of a box of Cracker Jacks?"

Dean straightened to look Kavanagh in the eye, and Radek could have sworn the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. "It may have escaped your notice," Dean said in a tone that rivaled Rodney at his snarkiest, "that I'm the only person in this room who _doesn't_ have a PhD. In fact, I dropped out of high school to fight monsters that are worse than Wraith. So I don't need you telling me that I'm doing it wrong. I'm _doing_ it, and that's what matters."

Kavanagh scoffed. "Earth doesn't have monsters."

"Yeah? Tell that to the mom whose daughter got hooked on _Twilight_, only to be turned by a real vampire. Better yet, why don't you go feed yourself to one and get the hell out of my way?" And Dean pointedly went back to work with music suddenly blaring from the lab's PA system.

It took Radek a moment to place the tune: "You're No Good" by Linda Ronstadt. He couldn't be sure whether it was playing at Dean's request or was a comment by Lantea, but he suddenly had a bittersweet flashback to his childhood—a homemade radio and a tape recorder kept hidden and passed among the children in the neighborhood, the radio being strong enough to pick up East German radio on Saturdays when they played Western rock music to prove how _decadent_ and _awful_ the West was. It had even gotten Radio Free Europe on a good day, more frequently later in the '80s. He'd hardly dared hope then that he'd even have the freedom to choose his own music, never mind the freedoms he'd gained after the Velvet Revolution and the even greater freedoms he had here in Atlantis...

"What did you say your name was?" Kavanagh asked suspiciously.

Dean didn't look up. "Jones. John Paul Jones."

"Your parents must be Revolutionary War historians."

Dean snorted, and the music changed to Led Zeppelin's "Dazed and Confused," which aptly described the look on Kavanagh's face. Radek had heard that Kavanagh had been on personal leave in April and May of the previous year and had thus missed all of the Apocalypse-thwarting panic he would have been privy to had he been at his post on the _Daedalus_. It still surprised Radek somewhat that Kavanagh wouldn't have overheard enough gossip to know who he was talking to.

Finally, Kavanagh's annoyance at being ignored won out over his confusion. "Look, you cretin—"

The volume of the music increased, and Dean yelled, "What? Can't hear you, music's too loud!"

"He bothering you, Dean?" Sam suddenly called from the door.

The music turned down a bit. "Yeah. Hey, this guy remind you of anyone, Sammy?"

Kavanagh found himself on the receiving end of one of Sam's long, searching stares, which would be unsettling enough for anyone—the man was Ronon Dex's size, after all—even without knowing who Sam was, what he knew, what he'd been through, and what he could do as a result of being former Tok'ra and of having to hone his powers in order to escape from Hell. But the coward paled and squirmed as if he held a guilty secret.

"Yeah, he does," Sam finally stated. "If I didn't know better, I'd think he was the same guy."

"S-same guy?" Kavanagh stuttered. "Look, I don't know you..."

"_Christo_," Dean muttered quietly, which earned him a nervous glance from Kavanaugh.

Sam huffed, and the corner of his mouth turned up. "Like I said, I know you're not him. Not only are you not possessed—which I already knew, Dean, but thanks—he's dead. We killed him four years ago."

Kavanagh's face turned even paler. "Whu-who?"

"Pride. Chief of the demons representing the Seven Deadly Sins."

"Was that really four years ago?" Dean asked idly, still not looking away from his work.

Sam thought for a moment. "Devil's Gate was 2007, it's 2011... yeah, four years."

"Damn. Lot of water under a lot of bridges since then."

Sam's smile grew. "That's one way to put it."

"Dude, shut up."

"I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to, and do I have to remind you what _else_ started with that hunt?"

"_Dean_."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry."

"Want me to get rid of him?"

Kavanagh looked ready to faint. "Zelenka, who are these people?"

"I told you," Dean replied. "I'm John Paul Jones, and that's Robert Plant."

Sam barked a laugh. "Better known to the rest of the galaxy as Sam and Dean Winchester."

Kavanagh did faint at that, but Sam telekinetically caught him before he could hit the ground and carried him over to a chair out of the way.

Dean did look up at that. "Did he seriously..."

"Yes," Radek sighed. "He does not respond to pressure very well. We are lucky that it does not happen more often."

Both brothers laughed, and Dean got back to work while Sam stood guard over Kavanagh. Dean had just finished and checked the device's function with Radek when:

"Dean," said a gravelly voice that wasn't Sam's.

Radek jumped, but Dean looked at the newcomer and frowned in concern. "Cas? What's up?"

Castiel stared at Dean without blinking and began to raise his hand. "We need your help."

"Hey! Whoa!" cried Dean, ducking away from the fingers Castiel was raising to his forehead. "It doesn't work like that anymore, Cas. We gotta brief Woolsey."

Castiel let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine."

And with a snap of the angel's fingers, Atlantis' senior staff were in the conference room with the Winchesters, swearing in shock.

"I told you we'd have to explain," Gabriel said from the video screen, and it was only then that anyone realized that the Stargate was active. How the angels had managed to create the wormhole without setting off the unscheduled activation alarm was beyond Radek, though he suspected Rodney would want him to run a diagnostic to find out. Another glance at the video screen showed that the SGC's briefing room was full of equally dazed officers and senior civilian staff—aside from Teal'c, who looked his usual unflappable self.

Dean muttered something uncomplimentary about angels.

"We cannot waste time," Castiel stated. "The planet may already be under attack."

"What planet?" almost everyone asked at the same time.

Gabriel shot Castiel a warning look. "Long story short, Hell is in chaos, largely because _you_ muttonheads," he mock-glared at Sam and Dean, "killed off most of the senior staff and most of the ones who are left can't agree on who's Luci's favorite. Some of the more enterprising demons have hooked up with the Lucian Alliance to try staking a claim on another planet. That would be disturbing enough were it not for the fact that according to Raphael, the planet they've chosen happens to be the one where Dishon and Salim have been working undercover to undermine a Lucian Alliance stronghold—_and_ it's an Icarus-type planet," he concluded, glancing over at Lt. Gen. Jack O'Neill.

O'Neill swore. "They're after _Destiny_."

"Possibly," Gabriel cautioned. "But there is also a fairly substantial human population on that planet. Considering that the last two planets used to dial _Destiny_ went critical within minutes, my guess is that they won't attempt to dial until they've had their fun creating Hell on... what's it called, Vihanta?"

"Yes," Castiel replied.

"Vihanta—that's Finnish for _verdant_," Daniel Jackson noted. "Sounds like an Asgard-protected race... why would they be on a planet claimed by Thanos?"

"It doesn't matter, Daniel," O'Neill snapped. "What matters is keeping it out of the demons' hands. Winchesters, I want you Earth-side _now_."

Castiel transported them before they could even get out a "Yes, sir," and the Gate shut down.

Radek sighed and wondered how in the world his life had gotten so much stranger in the last year.

* * *

"How sure are you that Raphael's on the level?" Dean asked as the angels escorted him, Sam, and SG-15 to the locker room to suit up. Three other five-person teams were joining the strike force, but the Winchesters were accompanying 15. "I mean, he could have delayed this info on purpose."

"Conditions have changed in Heaven in the last year, Dean," Cas replied. "Gabriel and I have persuaded Raphael not to resume the attempt to force the Apocalypse back on track. The delay was not intentional. Raphael's informant was unable to get the information we needed without following the demons onto a Lucian Alliance ship, and by the time he learned the full extent of the danger, he was trapped in hyperspace. He informed us as soon as he could."

"How many demons are we talking about?" Sam asked.

Gabriel shook his head. "Azrael wasn't sure. Maybe twenty in the initial attack, more once they had a beachhead. It's hard to tell how many factions there are and how many legions in each; most of the fighting's going on Downstairs, and with the time dilation, any news that gets to us is already years out of date unless it's about demons who are already topside. And before you ask, no, we can't come with you this time. The less they know about how much we know, the better."

But Dean was still stuck on Heaven's politics. "Wait, wait, wait. Cas, Dishon said you guys had your hands full last summer."

"It is difficult to estimate how much time passed on Earth while we were attending to matters in Heaven," Cas stated with a shrug. "But we didn't need to do more than talk to get Raphael to yield. Now, convincing him to give up on the idea altogether took more time, and some of his more determined supporters, like Naomi and Virgil, required reassignment and other forms of persuasion."

"You mean Bible camp?"

"No. Only one who is truly in league with Lucifer deserves such treatment. So far we have found none, only those whose contempt for humanity has blinded them to Father's true will. They are now in positions where they will learn but neither do harm nor come to harm."

Dean nodded. "That's good."

"Yes, and it looks like less severe methods have been effective. We've been able to avoid the civil war I feared might result from our opposition to Raphael."

Both Sam and Dean heaved a sigh of relief at that.

Gabriel nodded. "So yeah, basically, any angel you meet now is relatively trustworthy. At least until we can get Hell's civil war dealt with. Then... well, we'll have to see."

"You'll have to see?" the Winchesters chorused.

Gabriel conjured up a Magic 8-Ball and held it out for the brothers to see the plastic triangle declaring _Reply hazy – Try again_. "You mooks killed the only script we had. And that's a good thing, don't get me wrong, but unless and until I hear from Dad, I can only see so far ahead. Or, well, maybe Atropos or Chronos, but I don't know how likely any of the Greeks are to help out right now."

"Hey, Winchester," called the major who was in command of SG-15, holding up a 28-round magazine for his USAS-12. "We got salt rounds in these. We need anything else?"

The brothers looked at each other and shrugged. "Not unless you've got some kind of full-auto spray pack for holy water," Dean replied.

"Coming," called Siler, who was hauling in a cart full.

The Winchesters laughed. "Okay, look," said Sam. "We should probably set this up more or less like a WWII engineer squad, with each person armed differently—one holy water pack, one shotgun with salt rounds, two P-90s, one M-4. If we're looking at both demons and Lucian Alliance—"

"You are," Gabriel confirmed.

"—then it's likely to be extremely hard to tell which attackers you can kill and which you can't, unless the demons' eyes have turned."

"But getting shot with rock salt still hurts like hell as a human," Dean noted, "and getting hit in the face with a stream of water'll slow you down, too. So don't discriminate."

"Yeah. Just throw everything at everyone, and you should be okay."

Gabriel looked around. "Oh, and—" He snapped his fingers. "You each have an extra dog tag now with an anti-possession charm on it. In case the demons smoke out, you'll be less likely to pick up unwanted passengers."

A few of the newer recruits on the other away teams were starting to look really weirded out at this point. "Is he serious, sir?" one of them even whispered to the major.

The major gave him The Look. "Evans, if you can't handle being pinned to the wall by a possessed IOA agent, I'll have Landry reassign you to Washington."

The new kids visibly stifled their qualms and finished suiting up. Gabriel snapped his fingers again, more quietly this time, and saved Sam and Dean the trouble of doing likewise. Dean checked his belt and found the demon-killing knife sheathed just behind his holstered M1911. He nodded his thanks to Gabriel, who shrugged.

Then Cas handed him a piece of paper with a sigil drawn on it. "If you see this mark, break it. It's most likely to be somewhere near the Stargate; the demons will place it as quickly as they can."

Dean frowned. "This looks kind of like that trap Alastair had Tessa in. Reaper-proofing?"

"More or less. It will bind the Reapers and prevent them from taking the souls."

Dean nodded and handed the paper to Sam, who studied it and showed it to the team leaders.

One of Evans' teammates cleared his throat and spoke up. "Uh, 'scuse me, sirs... why would they want to stop the Reapers?"

"That," said Gabriel, "is something for you to hear from the Tok'ra—_after_ you save the planet."

"One last question," said Dean. "How sure are we that the demons will come through the Gate and not by ship?"

Gabriel and Cas exchanged a look. "We're not," Gabriel confessed. "The Lucian Alliance is short enough on ships that we're assuming they won't risk losing one if Vihanta goes critical dialing _Destiny_. But if a demon's in command, that may not matter."

Dean's thoughts on the matter were best expressed in Goa'uld.

"Listen, kid, we're pretty much flying blind here ourselves. You want to stand here cursing your lack of intel, or you want to go save some lives?"

"Can't I do both?" Dean shot back as the strike force started moving toward the Gateroom.

* * *

Vihanta, it turned out, was very aptly named. The grass was _emerald_ green—seriously, it looked about like Dean had always imagined Ireland would look in person. Leftover memories from Dishon told him there were vast tracts of orchards and farmland beyond the town that lay in front of them, as well as a number of other villages beyond those, each a day or two on foot from the others. The anti-Reaper sigil wasn't visible anywhere, and given the state of the grass, it didn't look like anything had been through the Gate on foot that day. Everything looked quiet and peaceful.

So naturally, Dean was on edge.

Sam was, too, and as soon as the wormhole shut down, he directed everyone else to a safe spot and quickly scorched a devil's trap around the Gate. "That should buy us some time, anyway," he said once he'd finished. "_If_ they come only through the Gate and _if_ they're plain old stunt demons, this will hold them long enough to be exorcised. What happens then depends on whether the demons are possessing civilians or Lucian Alliance members."

The major ran through the Enochian exorcism with the other teams and then assigned two teams, composed mainly of Marines, to watch the Gate while the rest of the group went into town. As they walked, though, Dean's internal alarms kept blaring that something was wrong, and he finally figured out why. While some worlds genuinely didn't have birds or birdlike wildlife, Vihanta did. But Dean wasn't hearing any birdsong.

"Cas was right," he murmured to Sam. "Something's already here."

Sam nodded as he looked around warily. "Question is..."

"What."

"And how many."

"And where," the major chimed in.

"Now, that is one thing we won't need to worry about," Dean replied. "These guys usually don't have the sense God gave a grasshopper. You'd be noticeable enough just from the uniform, but me and Sam could be in full Tok'ra gear and still be a magnet for every demon in a fifty-mile radius. They'll come to us."

"The Lucian Alliance base is three towns west of here," Sam noted. "Fifty troops, one XO, one CO. It's mostly been black market, weapons smuggling, and espionage up to now, maybe some low-grade Mafia-type extortion and such locally. But... I... _think_ there's some kind of major festival coming up in the next day or two—maybe today—that draws everyone in from the outlying villages. So whatever's going to go down, it'll happen here."

"Uh, sir?" Evans ventured.

"They were Tok'ra for a while last year," the major interrupted before Evans could ask his actual question. "You want to know how those memories work, you just ask Col. Carter when we get back."

Evans shut up.

The sense of wrongness grew all the more oppressive as they got to the town. The Vihantans were out and about, which was something of a relief, but there definitely wasn't a festival atmosphere about the place. People looked subdued, even scared. And some of those who noticed the arrival of Tau'ri with guns looked a little relieved.

When a man finally did speak to the team, the major asked, "We understood there was some kind of festival today. Did something happen?"

The man fumbled a bit for an answer. "Y-n-well, i-it begins after dark. Most everyone who was planning to come is already here. It's... it's just..."

"You've got a bad feeling," Sam supplied.

The man looked a little relieved. "Yes. That's it exactly. Nothing I can pinpoint, but we all seem to be feeling it."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. We feel it, too. Listen, has anything weird happened today? Like, somebody sick who should have died but hasn't?"

The man frowned, but a woman behind him turned and hurried over to them. "How did you know?" she whispered.

"We've seen that kind of magic at work before."

"I... thought the Tau'ri didn't believe in magic."

"Some of us do, ma'am," Dean replied. "Your husband?"

"My son. He had a terrible fall yesterday, cracked his skull, and the doctor thought he would most likely die. But about an hour ago he suddenly woke up and asked for food. I would think it was a miracle, but—"

"That was about the time when the bad feeling started."

Both locals nodded.

Sam pulled the paper Cas had given them out of his pocket. "Have either of you seen this sign drawn or carved anywhere here in town within the last hour?"

Neither the man nor the woman recognized it.

"What about people from three towns west? Have you noticed any of the men with weapons?"

The woman shook her head, but the man frowned. "I think I've seen a few near the square."

Just then the team's radios chirped. "Someone's dialing in," the captain of SG-23 reported from the Gate.

"Don't fire until you see the blacks of their eyes," the major radioed back.

"Understood, sir."

Then the major looked back at the now-confused locals. "We'll go check out the square. Thank you."

"The... _blacks_ of their eyes?" the man repeated.

"We're expecting company. Their eyes are completely black."

"Oh." The man didn't look much less confused, but at least he understood that it wasn't just some weird Earth saying. "Well, then, may the gods grant you success."

The team nodded and headed toward the square.

Sam was outright jittery by the time they got there. "It's here," he murmured to Dean. "Can't tell where, but..."

"Feels like Hell?" Dean supplied.

Sam nodded.

Dean nodded back. He wasn't as sensitized to that kind of thing as Sam always had been thanks to the demon blood, never mind now that Sam had physically spent more than twice as long in Hell as Dean's soul had. But he could still feel whatever was bothering Sam, and it did remind him of Hell.

"You two find the sigil, then," said the major. "We'll keep our eyes peeled for the Alliance."

"Yes, sir," the brothers chorused.

As the rest of the team fanned out across the square, Dean let Sam follow his senses like an overgrown bloodhound. But it took maybe thirty seconds of seemingly casual strolling before he felt Sam grab his arm telekinetically.

"Dean," he said, pointing toward a monument near the middle of the square. There was a man leaning against it, seemingly idle—but Dean vaguely recognized him from Dishon's memories.

"Let's go," said Dean.

The brothers naturally fell into step with each other as they made their way toward the monument. The man lounging against the monument saw them coming but didn't move.

"Can I help you fellas with something?" he drawled as they walked up to him.

"Need to inspect this monument," Dean declared.

"Ain't nothin' special about this old thing. Nothin' for the Tau'ri to be interested in, anyway."

"Step aside, please."

The man spat toward their shoes, though Sam deflected the spit wad, and it landed in the dirt.

"I said step aside," Dean repeated.

"Make me."

Sam didn't move, just shoved the man aside telekinetically. And there, where his back had been pressed against the base, was the anti-Reaper sigil, newly carved. Dean quickly drew his handgun and shot a chip out of the rock, enough to mar the line and break the sigil.

And all hell broke loose.

"Death gliders!" SG-23 radioed just as the Alliance troops scattered around the square opened fire on the SG troops.

Civilians screamed and ran for cover. The SG teams returned fire on the Alliance troops, only to have their attention split when the Alliance's stolen Goa'uld fighters screamed past, strafing the square. And seconds after that, the ring platform that Dean hadn't even seen in the middle of the square activated, and then they were up to their ears in demons and Alliance troops. As fast as one group went down under a hail of rock salt shells and streams of holy water, another ringed in from what Dean had to assume was an Alliance mothership. Sam lashed out with all his powers, and Dean fought with the knife as best he could, but despite their best efforts to keep their backs to the monument, the fighting swept them apart. Dean found himself retreating toward a building at the edge of the square that had swinging doors like an old-school saloon.

No sooner had he registered it than two zat blasts shot out of the darkened doorway, sped past him, and took down the Alliance soldier closest to him.

Dean made a break for that doorway, still firing his P-90. The person with the zat continued to give him covering fire until he got inside. He could hear civilians screaming and sobbing behind him, but he didn't pay that much attention until he paused to reload, at which point the person with the zat turned.

"Stay down," a distorted female voice ordered sharply. "And stay _quiet_. You're less likely to get hurt that way."

Dean's head snapped up. "Dishon?"

Dishon, still blended with Dr. Mary Adamson, shot him a wry smile. "Hello, Dean."

Dean quickly finished reloading, but before he could say anything else, a staff weapon blast took out one of the windows. Together, Dean and Dishon turned back to the door and started shooting down the next wave of attackers.

"Any casualties?" Dean yelled over the gunfire.

"I don't know," Dishon replied. "I've been too busy to find out."

"This place have a back door?"

"I think so."

The conversation paused there until the current wave was stopped. "Okay," Dean called over his shoulder, "everybody out the back way. GO!"

"And stay low!" Dishon added as the civilians started to rise from their hiding places under tables and such.

Barely had the last of the civilians made it out of the main room when the next wave arrived. There were demons in this batch, some of which came in through the broken window. Dean and Dishon were driven back behind the bar, but Dishon had apparently stashed a shotgun with salt rounds back there, and she bellowed an exorcism over the gunfire that sent the demons back to Hell while Dean made sure the Alliance troops they were wearing followed them.

During the pause after this wave, Dean and Dishon dropped down behind the bar to stay under cover. "You okay?" Dean asked.

Dishon nodded, then let Mary step forward. "Oh, Dean, thank God," she breathed. "We couldn't get away to send word to anyone that this attack was coming."

"Thank Azrael. The angels were onto 'em."

"All units, report," the major barked through the radio before Mary could reply.

And all units did report, to Dean's relief. A few of the Marines were wounded, none seriously. Sam had found Salim and his new host, Sgt. Peter Brzinsky, and they were planning to head up to the troop transport ship to try to take out the last of the demons.

"The Gate is secure," SG-23 reported, "but there's no telling how long it'll stay that way."

Dean opened a pocket in his tac vest and pulled out a fresh magazine. "Gonna get you out of here," he whispered to Mary.

"Dean, wait." While Dean ejected the empty magazine, Mary slipped a data crystal into his opened pocket and closed it. "If anything happens, get that to the SGC."

Dean slammed the new magazine into place. "I _said_, we're gonna get you out of here. Dishon wouldn't let us leave Gabriel; I'll be damned if I leave you."

"But Dean—"

Whatever Mary's objection was going to be, it was cut off by renewed gunfire.

There was no respite between waves after that. Even though Dean and Mary fought back with everything they had and took down so many attackers Dean lost count, one of the humans had a staff weapon and fired it into the bar, setting it ablaze and forcing Dean and Mary to retreat out the back door. Mary used her hand device to set fire to a barrel of ale to cover their tracks; that stopped the humans, but it didn't stop one last trick on the demons' part: a hellhound. Dean didn't know it was there until he heard Mary scream as it attacked her. For lack of a better option, Dean threw the demon-killing knife at the hound, which howled and fell in a burst of flame. Mary summoned the strength to use the hand device to get it off of her.

As radio traffic revealed that the battle was over and that a couple of SG-28's members had died, Dean retrieved the knife from where it was stuck seemingly in mid-air, then crouched beside Mary, checking her wounds. But there was no way Dishon could repair them in time to stop her from bleeding out, and all three of them knew it. They locked eyes for one despairing moment.

And Dean knew what he had to do.

"Goodbye, Mary," he whispered, quickly lifting her head and shoulders and leaning over her as if for a last kiss. But Dishon couldn't afford to wait and jumped before their lips could touch.

This time Dean didn't gag. And this time the blending felt like an embrace.

_Missed you, buddy_, he thought as he felt the Tok'ra's mind connect with his own.

_As did I you_, Dishon replied. _I am only sorry we must reunite like this._

_ Yeah. Me too._

By the time Dishon got Dean's eyes focused again, Mary was dead.

And seconds later Dean sensed Sam coming up behind him, but the startled gasp was followed by a "Dishon?!" so distorted that neither man nor Tok'ra needed to ask what had happened to his brother.

"It could not be helped, Salim," Dishon replied, gently setting down the corpse. "Dean got to us as quickly as he could."

"As did Sam to us," said Salim. "But we had become separated, and a demon stabbed Peter through the heart before Sam could kill it. I had to jump, and Sam had to catch me with his telekinesis." He sighed. "It's almost as bad as..."

"Carthage."

A beat passed. "I was going to say Revanna, but you're right. It is like Carthage. Fewer are dead, but even so."

Dishon sighed and stood, finally turning to face his brothers. "Have you burned the others?"

Salim nodded Sam's head. "SG-15 is waiting for us at the Gate. The other teams will stay to ensure the site is secure."

Dishon gave Mary's body a final farewell glance before walking away, and Salim set it ablaze before following.

Neither the Winchesters nor their symbiotes said anything on the walk back to the Gate, and both Sam and Dean were content to let Salim and Dishon remain in control. SG-15 didn't say anything, either, as they dialed the Gate and sent through their IDC, and the group filed through the Gate in silence.

Landry was waiting at the foot of the ramp when they returned and seemed to notice the difference in Sam and Dean's posture. "What happened?" he demanded.

Dishon found himself putting on one of Dean's smirks in spite of himself. "Well, General, I believe the Tau'ri saying is: 'Oops, I did it again.'"

And Salim couldn't suppress a snicker at Landry's stare.


	3. Ch 2: Soul Man

Chapter 2  
Soul Man

"Souls," said Salim once everyone was in the conference room and the initial sitrep had been delivered. "It is all about the souls."

"How do you mean?" O'Neill asked.

"As Gabriel told you, Hell is in chaos. Few remaining demons have the inherent power needed to impose their rule on the others; they require the energy of souls to augment their own. But there are not enough non-demonic souls in Hell to support all the claimants or even to break the impasse. Some have begun searching for a route to Purgatory. Others feared that to do so would attract too much attention, especially from us. But the demon who possessed Mr. Coolidge had another idea: collecting souls at their source before they could be claimed by anyone else—Reapers included. And he and his followers are not particular as to what kind of souls they take. No sentient life form is safe—Goa'uld, Tok'ra, Unas, the Pegasus Asgard, Wraith, even the creatures encountered by _Destiny_."

"They may even attempt to force ascended beings back to a plane where those souls can be harvested," Dishon added.

"Is Vihanta secure?" Landry asked.

"For now. But it may not remain so long. There are few Icarus-class planets known to the Alliance that are stable enough even to attempt dialing _Destiny_ without attracting the attention of the Tau'ri. Vihanta is both the most stable and the only inhabited planet, making it ideal for both the Alliance and the demons."

"Do you have Gate addresses for the others?"

Dishon handed the data crystal to Landry. "That is all the information we had gathered during our time on Vihanta."

Landry nodded. "Good. We'll start working on securing these sites."

"That should halt any attempt to enter the ship through the Stargate," Salim allowed. "But that is not the only point of entry for _Destiny_ from this galaxy."

O'Neill frowned. "You think the demons will try to use the communication stones?"

"As a last resort, yes. Of course, neither we nor they have any idea whether demons can ride the host's consciousness across such a link, but they may well attempt it."

O'Neill nodded. "All right. We'll beef up security at Homeworld Command. Now, you mentioned the Pegasus races. Have there been any attempts to dial into Atlantis?"

Sam stepped forward. "No, sir, and we don't think they'll try. Odds are they'll aim to find a ZPM and dial from the far edge of the Milky Way to the near edge of Pegasus. But I couldn't begin to guess whether they'd try for the planet that was part of the Gate Bridge or some other one."

"Or which other one," Dishon agreed. "Yet they must know that the Pegasus Asgard don't use the Stargates and confine themselves to dead worlds."

"So they'd be aiming for a planet where they could get ships."

"Wraith, Genii, or Travelers."

"Most likely. Unless there's more of RepliWeir's information on other cultures in the SGC's Earthside system than we know. Hell's limited to what Coolidge would have access to, and the Coalition doesn't have too many worlds that are that technologically advanced."

O'Neill blinked. "RepliWeir?"

"Dean's term," Sam and Dishon chorused.

"Oh.—Speaking of Dean..."

Dishon sighed. "He is awake and aware, but he is taking Mary's death quite hard. He lost a dear friend on Earth the same way, not quite two years ago. And he blames himself, though none of us could have known about the hellhound."

"Dishon is right, Dean," said Cas. "Azrael had made no mention of hellhounds. I might have come with you if he had."

Dean finally came forward at that. "C'mon, Cas. You know it wouldn't have been smart. Gabriel said as much."

"Do you really think I would have let you face hellhounds alone if I had known, after what happened in Carthage?"

They locked eyes for a long moment. Then the corners of Dean's mouth twitched upward a little. "Thanks, dude."

O'Neill cleared his throat. "Look, you two—four—have some leave coming. Why don't you take the weekend to go to Sioux Falls and get some rest? If Singer's got any intel, great, but otherwise, let us work out where to go from here."

"You sure?" Dean began.

But Gabriel cut his voice off before he could object further, though Sam wasn't sure whether the objection was going to involve 'being fine' or having more intel to offer, neither of which would be true. Instead, once Dean turned an annoyed glare to the Trickster archangel, Gabriel said, "He's sure, and I don't want to hear it. Just nod your head and say 'Thank you,' Dean."

That provoked a mischievous sparkle in Dean's eyes as he nodded, and when Gabriel restored his voice, he parroted, "Thank you, Dean."

Gabriel slapped a hand over his eyes, and Teal'c actually laughed.

"Walked into that one, didn't I, big guy?" Gabriel groaned.

"Indeed," Teal'c replied, still chuckling.

O'Neill was trying not to laugh himself and was about to fail. "Get outta here," he ordered.

The Winchesters saluted, and the meeting broke up. Cas flitted back to Atlantis to get the brothers' gear before the Gate shut down. He returned just as Sam, Dean, and Gabriel stepped out of the briefing room, at which point Gabriel snapped his fingers. And suddenly brothers and angels were standing outside Bobby's house.

Sam sighed. "Face the Music, Part One."

"We're not s'posed to be home until Thanksgiving," Dean agreed, sounding a little plaintive. "He's gonna know something's wrong."

"When do you idjits show up when somethin' _ain't_ wrong?" Bobby said gruffly from behind them, and Sam found himself being pulled around into a hug. "Hell, boy, makin' m'hair stand on end," he added into Sam's shoulder before releasing him. "And Salim's back in there, ain't he?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, and sorry about the EMF."

"Save it." Bobby hugged Dean next. "Aw, hell, son, what _is_ wrong?" he asked as he backed away. "And don't you dare say you're fine; ain't felt you shake like that since—"

"Since Carthage?" Dean offered.

Bobby looked around at all of them. "Get in this house. Too damn hot to stand around outside yakkin'."

The brothers sighed in unison and followed Bobby into the house, trailed by the angels. Then Bobby got out the whiskey, exchanged greetings with the Tok'ra, and made _Cas_ tell the whole story. Gabriel filled in some commentary, as did Sam, but Dean didn't even bother to drink anything. He was clearly sliding into shock again.

Bobby nodded slowly once the tale was told, then sighed. "Well, I ain't got much for you. Startin' to see some crazy monster activity—had three wraith reports last week—but that might have more to do with this bunch that's goin' after Purgatory. But I can check with Rufus and a few other friends, see what they know."

Gabriel nodded. "Yeah, Purgatory could be a problem if they were actually able to break through. There's stuff stashed in there that even _I've_ never heard of. But that's not a matter for the SGC."

"Well, we're here for the weekend," said Sam. "Anything you need my help with, Bobby? Any research I can do?"

Bobby shrugged. "Sure I can find somethin'. Dean?"

Dean looked kind of lost until Dishon evidently whispered a suggestion that made his eyes light up. "Actually? I think I'm gonna go for a drive. Haven't seen my car in way too long."

Sam smiled at that.

"You want to come, Sammy?"

_Say no_, Salim whispered suddenly. _If Lisa still lives here, I think I know what Dishon is up to._

_She does_, Sam thought back, catching on, and cleared his throat. "Nah. Not right now. I know you three have a lot to catch up on."

Dean blinked. "Three?"

"You, Dishon, and the car."

Dean snorted but smiled anyway.

Bobby tossed him the keys. "You see Lisa, tell her I still owe her for the meatloaf."

Dean looked a little bewildered at that. "O-kay. Later." And he left.

"Meatloaf?" Sam, Gabriel, and Cas asked at the same time once the door was closed.

Bobby shrugged. "Had to remind him somehow, didn't I?"

Sam laughed.

* * *

Lisa was just walking in her front door when she heard the rumble of the Impala pull up behind her. She paused just inside the door and turned, expecting Bobby, and startled when Dean, still in uniform, got out of the car and jogged up the walk.

"Hey, Lis!" he called.

"Dean! What—I thought you didn't get leave until Thanksgiving!"

"We got a weekend pass," he replied as he got to the doorstep. "Sam's fine, says hello. And Bobby said to tell you he still owes you for the meatloaf."

"Oh... that's... okay." She had no clue what that was supposed to mean, though it might just have been Bobby's way of making sure Dean would come see her. But as she looked him over, something felt... off, like he was trying too hard to be cheerful on her behalf. She felt her smile start to fade, and his dimmed slightly as well.

Embarrassed by her scrutiny, he ducked his head and rubbed his neck. "So, um..."

"Dean? What happened?"

He looked at her for a moment, seeming a little lost for words. Then his eyes closed and his head dropped forward briefly, as if he'd fallen asleep for a split second—a gesture she suddenly remembered from the summer before Sam's return, one she hadn't seen since—and when he opened his eyes again, something had _shifted_ in them, like the soul looking out wasn't Dean anymore.

"Hello, Lisa," said Dean's voice, which sounded as if he were speaking through one of those voice-distortion toys Ben's friends used to have.

She couldn't suppress a startled squeak.

"I regret that we were never formally introduced while I was living with you before," the weird voice continued, and the expression on Dean's face matched the sentiment coming from his lips. "But at the time, you lacked the clearance to know of my existence."

And something clicked. "You're... the alien?" she hazarded. She probably should feel more shocked, or at least sound more shocked, but knowing what she did now about the previous summer grounded her somehow.

"I am Tok'ra," he nodded. "This is my true voice. My name is Dishon. And I am very partial to your apple crumb cake," he added with a grin that was like Dean's but also different somehow.

Which explained why he was always asking for it before Sam came back but didn't afterward. Lisa managed a small smile even as her memories of that summer began sorting themselves into _That was Dean_, _That was Dishon_, _I'm not sure who that was_...

Dishon's smile faded slightly. "Dean wishes you to know that though we both care for you, _I_ have never considered you more than a very good friend."

"So when we... ah..."

"I was present, but I was never in control. Dean loves you too much for that. In fact, I was usually dormant to give him privacy." He paused. "My mate was killed several years ago by a Goa'uld spy. I am not yet ready to give my heart again. But I am very glad that you return Dean's feelings for you."

She nodded once, then shook her head. "I... I'm sorry, I'm just... seeing Dean possessed again..."

"It's not possession, Lisa. I am a symbiote, nothing more. We share this body, and I give him no powers other than health, long life, and the ability to use certain technology. If we may come in, I will show you my true face."

She hesitated, but something told her that if Dishon had meant her harm, he would have had ample opportunity to hurt her when she didn't even know he was in Dean the first time. So she took a deep breath and stepped aside. He walked into the living room, looking around cautiously, and stopped to face her where his face couldn't be seen from any of the windows. She closed the door and followed but kept the couch between them.

"You must promise not to scream," he said.

She swallowed hard and braced herself against the back of the couch. "Okay. I... I promise."

Now, she had seen demons' true forms before, when Meg and her minions had tried to attack the Braedens and Bobby and Gabriel and Castiel had shown up to defend them. The angels had killed Meg, but some of the lesser demons had fled their hosts. So Lisa was braced for smoke to come out of Dean's mouth when it fell open. She wasn't expecting the grey snaky thing that poked its head out and flared its gill fins. It quickly bobbed up and down and squeaked once as if waving hello, then retreated back into Dean's mouth, which closed as his eyes flashed with light briefly.

"Dean's face is much more handsome," Dishon remarked with a wry smile.

That startled a laugh out of her. "I... I don't understand. I thought Dean said you'd taken a new host."

He nodded. "I had. In fact, I had not expected to see Dean or Sam ever again, though we had promised to write. But today demons attacked the planet where my brother and I were stationed. Somehow the angels got word and brought Sam and Dean back from Atlantis to aid us."

"But... then why..."

"There was a hellhound," he said quietly, his eyes sad.

She gasped. Dean had told her about the hellhound attack that killed his friend Jo a couple of years ago, so she didn't need more details than that. "Is Dean okay?"

"No." Then and only then did Dishon make any move toward her, but his eyes were deeply troubled. "No, he's not okay at all. That's why we're here. He needs you, Lisa."

She drew in a deep breath and nodded. "Can... can I..."

"I'll go to sleep and leave you two in peace until time for us to return to Atlantis. You have my word. And you'll know, believe me. I won't hide my voice from you again."

"Okay. Thanks, Dishon."

"Goodbye, Lisa." Then Dean's head dropped forward again, and when it came back up, his stance changed, almost like Dean was trying to fold in on himself as he ran a hand over his nose and mouth. "Dammit, I should have warned you. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'll... I'll go..." He started toward the door, looking absolutely crushed.

And suddenly Lisa didn't care about Dishon anymore.

"No, Dean, wait." She ran to cut him off. "Yes, you should have warned me, and yes, it's gonna take some getting used to, but don't you dare run off now."

He looked down at her miserably. "I didn't want to upset you like this."

"Apology accepted."

"I... I just..."

"Needed to see that I was okay?"

He nodded.

She stepped toward him. "Well, Ben's at a friend's house this weekend. So why don't I show you just how okay I am?"

"Lis, you don't have to do this," he whispered. "If you're not okay with Dishon—"

"Shhh." She pulled his head down and kissed him. "I've missed you."

His answering kiss was all Dean.

* * *

Monday morning arrived too soon for everyone. Ben had been overjoyed to come home Sunday night and find Dean there, but his deep disappointment that Dean wasn't staying longer was mitigated by Lisa's decision to see Dean and Sam off at the Gate this time. But O'Neill wanted an intergalactic briefing on this new demonic threat as early in the day on Monday as possible, so Dean arranged for Walter to give the Braedens the five-cent tour of Cheyenne Mountain while he, Sam, Bobby, and the angels were in the meeting.

Dean was so glad to have Dishon for backup when they got to the briefing room. Not only were the usual Homeworld Command brass present, including all of SG-1, but so were representatives of the Tok'ra High Council and the Tollan, leaders from half a dozen of the most populated and powerful Milky Way worlds, Master Bra'tac, a couple of Nox, a couple of Unas, and even a very shy Reole who'd been picked up by ship. And those were just the ones he could see. The briefing room in Atlantis was crammed, too. He could make out Elson and Dimas of Riva, representing the Coalition; Keras from M7G-677; Halling from New Athos; Ladon Radim of the Genii; and Larrin of the Travelers—but there were a bunch of other humans there whom Dean didn't know, plus Todd, who was probably there to advise Woolsey on how to convince the Wraith that this was a problem.

_I hate giving presentations_, Dean confided to Dishon, feeling rather claustrophobic.

_Courage, my friend_, Dishon replied, giving him the mental equivalent of a shoulder squeeze. _Think of the many lives you will save_.

Once O'Neill and Woolsey had made all the necessary introductions, the first hour or so of the meeting was mainly a lecture on what demons are, what they can do, how to fight them, and so on. The three hunters switched off for that part. Then Gabriel and Cas took over to explain what the demons were up to and why it was a threat to everyone, with Salim and Dishon filling in what the Tok'ra knew as needed. The angels left out most of the history of the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, much to Dean's relief, and focused instead on the power vacuum because that seemed to be the part that other races would understand. Daniel had to translate quietly for the Unas, but most of the others looked like they were following along fairly well.

"Any questions?" Gabriel finally asked.

"This all sounds very disturbing," said Ladon. "But we've never encountered these kinds of creatures in our galaxy. So how do we know you're telling the truth?"

And suddenly there were with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host—um. Well, four more angels, anyway, standing behind Gabe and Cas and looking imperious. Quite a few people gasped, including one of the Tollan.

"Ladon Radim," said one of the newcomers, a blonde. "Perhaps you would be so good as to inform Col. Sheppard which of your officers was behind the selection of Shiana of the Tribes of Santhal to the Coalition tribunal, knowing full well that she held a vendetta against Atlantis and would not be a just judge."

Ladon's eyes widened. "That—that wasn't—"

"No, it was not your doing, but the officer in question did boast of his cleverness and drink to the demise of Atlantis in your presence. You did not join him in that toast, but you have not punished him for attempting to harm an ally."

Ladon looked ready to fall through the floor.

"Rachel is one of our liaisons with the Pegasus garrison," Gabriel explained. "Inias and Samandiriel are overseeing intelligence on the search for Purgatory, and Balthazar is working with Azrael and his garrison to monitor the activities of the Lucian Alliance."

Ronon frowned. "I saw you. Two weeks ago, on Balar."

Rachel nodded once. "We were investigating whether the Balarans and the Satedan refugees would be targeted for more than their souls. So far, of the Coalition worlds known to Atlantis last year, only that of the Genii appears to be of potential interest to the Lucian Alliance for its technology."

"That said," Sheppard noted, "once the demons and the Alliance get to this galaxy, they won't be limited to what our people know. And if they get ships, they won't be limited to worlds with a Stargate."

"The Alliance does have ships," Balthazar added, "but not the sort capable of crossing the intergalactic void. Most likely, they'll cross by Stargate and then raid one of your planets. In the meantime, they've already begun targeting inhabited worlds in this galaxy, by Gate and by ship. Vihanta was the first, but it will most certainly not be the last."

Lya, one of the Nox representatives, tilted her head a little. "I am not sure I understand the need for defense. Many of our worlds are at peace since the fall of the Ori and the Goa'uld. The Alliance is troublesome, but is the danger really so great?"

Dishon grumbled something uncomplimentary about pacifists to Dean. Dean privately agreed.

Master Bra'tac sat forward. "I hesitate to suggest this because I can well imagine the cost. But the Tok'ra have technology that allows memories to be projected for others to see."

"We have been able to link a memory device to a holographic projector," one of the Tok'ra councilors admitted. "We brought both in case they were needed."

Bra'tac nodded, then paused before continuing. "Teal'c tells me that these brothers have been to the realm of the demons."

Dean shook his head. "No, Bra'tac, you do not want to know. You lived through Erebus, and believe me, Hell is a million times worse."

Bra'tac paled but didn't back down. "I do not ask for my own sake, Dean Winchester. I am a warrior, of a people trained for war, and I have fought evil for many years. I need no persuasion. But there are those here who do not know such torment."

"Dean," Todd said gravely—and about as gently as a Wraith could possibly sound. "Show them your mother."

Dean shook his head more vigorously, fighting tears. "No, Todd... don't..."

Sam put a hand on his arm. "I'll do it, Dean."

"Sammy—"

"Yellow-Eyes showed me, remember? At Cold Oak?" Sam's eyes didn't look any less pained than Dean felt, but they had that determined edge to them... and Dean found himself remembering the way Sam looked right before he went back to shoot Madison. There was no way Sam was going to let Dean talk him out of doing this himself, and they both knew it.

O'Neill cleared his throat. "Winchester, why don't you go check on your own guests while we go through this part?"

Bobby rubbed Dean's back briefly, and Cas nodded. So Dean drew a ragged breath, nodded back, and left the room.

Samandiriel popped into the hall just long enough to say, "They're touring the infirmary."

Dean nodded his thanks, and Samandiriel went back to the briefing. Then Dean had Dishon take over, and Dishon got them down the hall and into the elevator before the Tok'ra could get the memory projector set up. Once the elevator was on its way up to 21, Dishon gave control back to Dean, who braced himself against the elevator door.

"Why do they ask, buddy?" he whispered brokenly. "Why do they always gotta ask?"

_"__It's a very extraordinary scene / To those who don't understand,"_ Dishon quoted. _Some things simply have to be seen to be believed._

"Nobody should have to."

_I know._ If Dishon had been driving, he would have sighed deeply. _I know._

Dean had pulled himself together by the time the elevator arrived, and he'd just stepped out of it when Walter, Ben, and Lisa turned the corner to head down to the commissary. So Dean asked Walter to let him know when he was needed back in the briefing room and took Ben and Lisa to the commissary for Jell-O and a breather.

"Havin' fun?" he asked Ben as they rode the elevator back down.

Ben nodded. "They won't let us see any of the cool stuff, though."

"That's 'cause the cool stuff is classified, dude."

"It's not like I'd tell anyone!"

"Right. _How_ many times have you told the story about the Changeling?"

"But that's different! The guys in Sioux Falls know about zombies."

"I know. I was there, remember?"

"When they attacked Uncle Bobby's house?"

Dean blinked. "_Uncle_ Bobby? Since when is he _Uncle_ Bobby?"

"Since the demon attack," Lisa explained as they got out on 22. "I didn't think you'd mind."

"Mind less if you'd come back with us," Dean muttered, and she shot him a look that was equal parts amused and annoyed, so he didn't press.

Armed with pie and Jell-O, the family headed back to one of the tables and had just set everything down when Lya and the Tollan woman who'd gasped at the angels' arrival rushed in—through the _wall_. Ben and Lisa jumped, but Dean was more worried about the state the Tollan woman was in, sobbing hysterically into Lya's shoulder as Lya tried to comfort her.

"Hey," he said, abandoning his pie and jogging toward the aliens. "You guys okay?"

Lya looked up at him, her wild frizzy hair somehow seeming a lot less trippy and a lot more frazzled given the sorrow in her eyes. "You were right, Dean. Sam's memories were more terrible than words. But I do not wish I had not asked, for I truly could not have understood otherwise. We have lived too long in peace to believe such evil could threaten us."

Dean swallowed hard. "You know, you can set wards, use exorcisms. Don't have to kill to defend yourselves."

Lya nodded. "We are used to those who kill the body. That can be restored."

"But not if you lose your soul."

"No." She turned her attention back to the Tollan woman. "No, let us avoid that."

"Can I get you anything?"

"You are kind, but no, thank you."

Feeling awkward, Dean went back to Ben and Lisa.

"Dean?" Lisa asked quietly. "What... how..."

Dean shook his head. "It's classified."

Evidently the Tollan woman's sudden flight broke up the meeting, or at least the part O'Neill needed the hunters and angels for, because Dean had gotten only three bites into his pie before Bobby was sitting down on the other side of Ben. Gabe and Cas sat down on the other side of him, and while Teal'c checked on the other aliens, Sam sat down next to Dean, looking somewhat the worse for wear.

"Hey," said Sam, glancing over at Lya. "They okay?"

"Hell with them," Dean replied. "Are _you_ okay?"

Sam nodded a little. "The... device kinda... got away from me."

"What'd they see?"

"Mom. And... Meg. And Jess. Maybe Carthage, maybe Famine. And... Hell. A little."

Dean cursed under his breath in Goa'uld.

"Yeah."

"I shut it down before it became dangerous, Dean," Cas stated.

"Why'd you let it go that far?" Dean snapped.

Gabriel looked over at Lya as Teal'c came to join the other humans. "Like she said, they couldn't have gotten the point otherwise. These people aren't used to thinking in terms of spiritual danger, not when so many 'gods' turned out to be just another race of aliens. Wanton physical destruction is one thing. They can get that; they can defend against that, they think. But Hell is orders of magnitude different."

"Son," Bobby said before Dean could say anything else. "It's done. Let it go."

Dean sighed and gave Sam his Jell-O. Sam bumped his shoulder in thanks and ate.

Just about the time the family finished, Walter returned with the Tok'ra councilors. The one Dishon recognized as Erastus reached the table first. "I need to speak to Dishon and Salim," he said.

Cursing inwardly, Dean stepped back, and Sam evidently did the same. "At your service, Master Erastus," Salim said.

Erastus switched to Goa'uld, but Dean understood as if he spoke English. "Is there any information regarding the demon threat that you have not already given to us?"

"No, my lord," Dishon replied in the same language. "The Tau'ri have given you a full copy of our report from Vihanta, and there is no more to add. You also have the deposition we gave on the Apocalypse upon our return last year, which includes all that the Tau'ri know of fighting demons."

"Very well. We do not as yet have permanent hosts for you, but both the High Council and the Tau'ri are amenable to your remaining with your current hosts for the time being and returning with them to Atlantis. If there is information in the Atlantis database that may be of use in this fight, or if you intercept information from the Lucian Alliance, the Tau'ri have agreed to let you transmit it to us. Otherwise, you are to aid the Tau'ri in preparing the defense of the Pegasus Galaxy against the Lucian Alliance and the demons. When the current threat is over, we shall discuss the merits of new permanent hosts versus a long-term assignment to Atlantis."

"Understood," the brothers chorused, and Dean gave a mental sigh of relief. He really hadn't wanted to say goodbye to Dishon so soon or to give up his post in Atlantis.

Erastus nodded once and switched back to English. "Gen. O'Neill wishes Mr. Singer to work with Dr. Jackson to prepare an instructional video to be shared with allied worlds. As for the two of you, it will take time to connect the Zero Point Module to the Stargate to allow you to depart, as the remaining delegations must return to their own worlds first. Col. Carter estimates that it will be ready sometime this afternoon."

"Understood," Salim replied.

"Understood," Dishon echoed. "Thank you."

Erastus nodded again, and the councilors left to follow Walter to the serving line.

"Does... that mean you'll still be home for Thanksgiving?" Ben asked, having not followed the conversation at all.

Dishon just smiled and reached across the table to squeeze Ben's hand. "We hope so, Ben. We hope so."

* * *

The angels left after lunch, and with Bobby hard at work with Daniel on the video, Carter drove the Winchesters and Braedens to a nice park in Colorado Springs to hang out until it was time to go. The sunshine and fresh air did them all good, and Lisa made sure the conversation topics stayed light. The time still went too fast, and before Dean knew it, they were standing at the bottom of the Gate ramp, and he was kissing Lisa goodbye again.

It hurt to walk away when the wormhole connected. He really wished Lisa would agree to move to Atlantis with them—Bobby, too, for that matter, but Bobby had other hunters depending on him and couldn't just leave.

But the pang couldn't last for long, because Teyla and Torren were in the Gateroom when the Winchesters returned, and Teyla had that smile like she knew they were going to need some Torren hugs. Torren gasped and with a squeal of "DE-EE-EE-EE-EAN!" ran toward the brothers.

Dean dropped his bag and fell to one knee, arms outstretched. "Hey, TJ!"

Torren barreled into his arms for a laughter-filled hug... then pulled back, wrinkling his nose. "You smell funny, Dean."

"That's 'cause I brought back an old friend of mine. You wanna meet him?"

Torren nodded warily.

Dean's head bobbed. "Greetings, Torren Emmagen," said Dishon.

Torren's eyes went _wide_. "How'd you do that?"

Dishon chuckled. "My name is Dishon of the Tok'ra. I am Dean's symbiote. This is how I sound when I speak."

"Whoa," Torren breathed.

"Hey, Torren," Sam called. "Don't I get a hug?"

Dishon released the toddler, who hurried over to Sam for a hug. Sam not only hugged him but picked him up.

"You smell funny, too, Sam," Torren observed. "Have you got a... a... can you do that?"

Sam's chuckle morphed into Salim's. "Greetings, Torren. My name is Salim."

"How do you talk funny? You don't talk like Todd, but you don't talk like Sam, neither."

Salim considered a moment. "I don't know. My species always sounds like this when we speak through our hosts."

"Oh, you're guests?" At Salim's confused look, he said, "If you've got hosts, then you're guests, right?"

Salim smiled. "Yes, we are guests in a way—but we often live with our hosts for a very long time."

"You gonna live with Sam a long time?"

"I don't know yet. I'd like to."

"So why are you here?"

Salim's smile turned sad as he weighed his answer. Teyla edged closer to Dishon.

"... Salim?" Torren looked a little worried.

Salim sighed. "We are here to help our friends make sure the galaxy is safe for little boys to ask questions."

Torren looked at him for a moment, then hugged him. Salim hugged back almost as if Torren were blood kin.

"The city is safe, isn't it?" Teyla asked Dishon quietly.

Dishon nodded, but it was Dean who answered. "We'll try to add extra wards to the shield somehow, but yeah, you guys did a good job. TJ's safe here."

Teyla hugged him and whispered, "I'm sorry about your mother. Such pain is seldom quick to heal."

"Thanks."

"Would you let me serve you tea on the anniversary?"

Dean's arms seemed to tighten as much as his throat did. "That'd be awesome," he choked out.

She rubbed his back for a moment, and he drank in the simple comfort of just having a friend who _got it_. When he finally let go, she tipped her head forward a bit, and he bent his down to touch foreheads.

"Welcome home," she said.

"Thanks, Teyla," he replied and meant it with all his heart.

* * *

.

* * *

A/N: Many thanks to Enola (jennytork) for helping me out with the "guests" line, which was apparently something one of En's friends heard from her son while watching SG-1, and for other general brainstorming on this chapter.

For those of you who don't know SGA well, Teyla's people have a mourning ritual where friends of the bereaved serve him or her a memorial tea on the anniversary of the death. I suspect that at this stage, Dean would be more likely to accept that offer as a healthier outlet for his grief than the Winchester standard of too much alcohol and no talking.


	4. Ch 3: Only Human

A/N: Thanks for your patience! RL is calmer now, so I hope the next chapter (which I have started) won't be as long in coming.

* * *

Chapter 3  
Only Human

"No," said Chaya Sar.

Dean was getting a headache from the double-strength annoyance he was feeling. Granted, Chaya was the only ascended Ancient they were able to actually talk to, and that only because she was exiled and blahblahblah. But if Dishon was right that the Others were all like her in general attitudes toward stuff, and if Sheppard couldn't get _her_ to see sense, the Others weren't going to be convinced by anything short of an actual demon attack that resulted in one or more Ancients being un-ascended or whatever, captured, and used to power an attempt to take over Hell.

"You're just humans," Chaya continued. "I know you mean well, but I don't think you quite grasp the nature of the ascended. So thank you, but I really don't need your protection."

"With all due respect, ma'am," Sam returned, and judging from his tone of voice, he and Salim might be even more ticked off than Dean and Dishon were. "I don't think you quite grasp the nature of the threat. Maybe if you'd hold your hand out toward my brother, he can give you a practical demonstration."

She laughed and put her left hand down on the table in front of Dean. "Demonstration of what, a flea bite?"

Okay, that was it. Dean pulled the consecrated iron dagger he'd hidden in his belt and nailed her hand to the table.

She gasped. "OW! That... that... _hurts!_" The wound wasn't bleeding or even burning much, but she couldn't pull away from the dagger when she tried.

Dishon took over. "As the Tau'ri would say, Chaya Sar, the ascended are nothing more than supercharged ghosts. You may possess the might of demigods, but even true gods can be slain. We have seen them die as easily as the System Lords they sought to aid."

"Your kind could not defeat the Wraith or the Goa'uld in life," Salim added. "How, in this living death, do you hope to defeat a host of demons intent on your enslavement?"

She snarled and looked at Sheppard. "How dare you bring these _things_ into my presence!"

"These _things_ happen to be personally responsible for _saving Earth_ by fighting demons," Sheppard replied. "Answer his question."

She didn't, her eyes full of shock, confusion, pain, anger, and fear as she tried again to simply pull her hand back. Dishon let her struggle a couple more times before his lip curled and he pulled the dagger out. She promptly disappeared.

"Let's go," Sheppard said quietly.

The brothers followed him back to the Puddle Jumper at just short of a run. Chaya didn't try to stop them, which Dishon figured meant she was glad to see them go and Dean figured probably meant she just didn't want to find out whether they had a weapon that could actually kill her. They didn't—the Colt was at Bobby's—but there was little chance of Chaya knowing that.

Once they were in space and headed for the Gate, Sheppard snapped, "That was _not_ a good idea."

"She was askin' for it," Dean snapped back.

"It's called diplomacy. Ever heard of it?"

"Dean has all the tact of a bull elephant," Sam snarked.

Sheppard didn't look at Sam, just dialed the Gate. "Well, you encouraged him, Mr. Stanford Pre-law, and I happen to know you took International Relations for that degree."

The Jumper shot through the Gate and back into Atlantis.

Sam huffed. "We had to prove to her that she's still vulnerable."

"Look," Sheppard replied, "I'm not the Ancients' biggest fan, either. But you can't go stabbing our allies in the hand just to prove a point."

"Allies?!"

Dishon stepped forward. "Your history with her notwithstanding, Chaya Sar is less an ally to Atlantis than the Genii are. She cares only about her own people, and her exile is the result of that, not the cause."

Sheppard guided the Jumper back to its usual parking space in the Jumper bay. "And now she's even less of an ally than she had been."

"But if she's smart, she'll live," Sam stated. "And that was the point."

"Still."

Dean held up his hands. "All right, fine, I won't be shooting or stabbing anyone else. Unless the Wraith try to eat me."

Sheppard snorted. "If things go that pear-shaped, you're probably on your own."

The back of the Jumper opened, and the three men were halfway down the ramp when Sam suddenly frowned a little, slowed, and stopped. Dean and Sheppard looked at him questioningly, but his eyes were unfocused, as if he were listening to or watching something they couldn't hear or see.

"Sammy?" Dean prompted.

Sam held up a finger, but soon he started carrying on his end of the conversation out loud. "T-... To—Tor—Torren. _Torren._ Let her sleep. She—she's _okay_, but you need—Torren John. Settle. Down. ... We're here now, and we'll be there in just a minute, okay? ... Okay, buddy. Hang tight." His eyes widened as they focused on Dean and he blew the air out of his cheeks.

"Dude," said Dean. "You pulled out the Dad voice."

"And used both names," Sheppard added. "What's up?"

Sam shook his head and started toward the transporter, the other two falling into step beside him. "Torren's all upset because Teyla's still under and he can't hear her thoughts. We'd better go check on him; I'm worried he'll try to pull her out of the sedation. That's the last thing Jennifer needs—hell, the last thing Teyla needs."

"You think he can do that?"

"Hard to say. Not like there's a precedent. With a double dose of the Gift, I'd say it's possible. Or he could just make enough psychic noise that he'd be able to get through."

Sheppard cursed quietly and punched in their destination as soon as they got to the transporter. Dean didn't curse out loud, but both he and Dishon concurred with Sam's analysis. Teyla and her ex Kanaan, Torren's father, were both among the handful of Athosians descended from subjects of a Wraith experiment that left them fully human but with enough recombinant Wraith DNA in their genes to make them able to tune into what the Winchesters called Wraith Radio. So far as anyone knew, Torren was the first child ever to have "the Gift" on both sides of the family, which had the potential to make life interesting. To date, the only people he'd connected with were Teyla, Todd, Kanaan, and—for reasons still unknown—Sam, plus McKay the one time he and Sam had been body-swapped. And that had been only minor-league telepathy. But considering that Teyla had successfully mind-controlled Wraith queens before, including once while pregnant with Torren, there really was no telling what the boy was capable of on his own.

And they really did need to keep Torren calm. Todd had come to the conclusion that the only way to get the Wraith to listen to the warning about the combined threat from the demons and the Lucian Alliance was for Teyla to reappear as the Primary of Todd's former alliance, with Todd as her second in command and Sam and Dean as specimens captured during a jaunt into the Milky Way. He was sure he could bluff past any suspicions of the truth that the ZPM-powered superhive had kicked him out and then been destroyed over Earth... as long as Teyla was there to provide visual proof that he was still in her good graces. So Dr. Jennifer Keller was currently in the process of performing the surgery needed to transform Teyla's appearance so she could pass for a Wraith queen. But it was a long, complicated procedure, and Torren clearly hadn't fully understood just how long Teyla would be unconscious. Hell, Dean had vague memories of thinking the first hour Mom had been in labor with Sam was an eternity, so he could sympathize. He just hadn't had the power to make Sammy arrive any faster. If Torren managed to wake Teyla... well, Dean really didn't want to think about it.

The transporter deposited them two doors down from where Gate technician Amelia Banks was babysitting Torren for the day. This time it was Sheppard who set the pace, though, and Sheppard who got the first knockdown tearful Torren hug. And in Dean's opinion, that was probably as it should be. He didn't know when circumstances would allow Sheppard and Teyla to get together for real, but he hoped for everyone's sake it would be soon so Torren would have the green light to start calling his namesake "Dad."

"Hey, TJ," Sheppard said gently, holding Torren close. "What's the trouble?"

"Mommy!" Torren wailed.

"Aunt Jennifer's still working on her, buddy. You need to let her sleep."

"But..."

"It's a long time. I know. But if she wakes up too soon, it'll hurt her."

"But..."

"Shh." Sheppard rubbed Torren's back. "She's still here. She's still with Aunt Jennifer. You just gotta be patient."

"Don't wanna be patient. I want Mommy." But while Torren's tears hadn't subsided, the volume of his voice was now more of a whine than a wail. That was progress.

Sheppard's voice dropped to more of a whisper. "I know. I'm worried about her, too. But we've done this before. It takes a long time, but she'll be fine."

Torren sniffled. "If she'll be fine, why are you worried?"

"I always worry about your mommy."

"Why?"

"Same reason you do."

Torren whimpered and buried his nose in the crook of Sheppard's neck.

Banks smiled sadly and turned to address the Winchesters. "How'd it go on Proculus?"

Sam sighed. "About like you'd expect with Ancients. Chaya wouldn't take us seriously until Dean proved she was vulnerable."

"Yeah," Dean added, "and apparently she doesn't like snakeheads, even if they're Tok'ra. 'Course, I dunno how she knew about the Goa'uld if she was born here, but..."

Banks shrugged. "Probably part of the history the Ancients learned in whatever kind of schools they had. We learn about Greece and Rome; they probably learned about the Milky Way years."

_That is reasonable_, Dishon agreed. _Ancients were much like humans; they would not have passed on genetic memory as my kind do. But it is clear that the Ancients recalled enough about Earth to return there when the war against the Wraith turned against them._

"Hey, after you guys brief Mr. Woolsey, Dr. McKay needs to talk to you. He thinks he's found a way to use the shield generators to form a city-wide devil's trap."

Dean brightened. "Seriously?"

"He still thinks it's stupid, but yeah, he says it's one of the strongest ones."

"Awesome," the brothers chorused, which got a giggle out of Torren, as usual.

"Anything from Lorne?" Sam asked.

"Heard from Ronon," Banks replied. Ronon had gone with Lorne and SGA-2 to the Genii homeworld to sit in on Coalition negotiations regarding the ship the Genii had captured from the Pegasus Asgard the previous year. Ladon's engineers had succeeded in reverse-engineering a fleet that they were now busily securing against any attempted theft by the Lucian Alliance, but the Coalition still had to decide whether to use the original ship to try to warn the elusive rogue aliens. "Turns out, the Genii don't even know how to use the Asgard communications platform. And considering that these Asgard have been experimenting on humans, plus the fact that they activated the Attero device and blew up so many Stargates in the process of trying to take out Wraith, there's a pretty strong sense that maybe they deserve whatever the demons might do to them. Ronon sure thinks so, and Maj. Lorne's leaning that way."

"Can't say I blame 'em," said Sheppard. "On the other hand, we're planning to warn the Wraith."

"Yeah," Dean conceded, "but it's kinda like the difference between werewolves and witches. Werewolves don't have a choice; they have to kill humans to live. When a witch kills, it's pure malice."

"Well, with the gene therapy Todd helped Keller perfect, it's more like vampires and witches," Sam noted. "I mean, vampires like Lenore can survive by feeding on animals, but it has to be a conscious choice. And taking the gene therapy would be a conscious choice."

"Still."

"Yeah, no, I see what you're saying. And you're not wrong."

Banks shrugged. "Well, Mr. Woolsey said that if we're warning everyone else, we ought to warn the Asgard. So he's asked the SGC for instructions on how the Othalla Asgard platform worked. But he recommended that whoever contacts them be from a world that _hasn't_ tangled with them lately."

"Send Larrin," Sheppard drawled. "If she can't knock some sense into 'em, no one will."

The other adults in the room laughed, and Torren giggled even though he hadn't ever met the Travelers' leader.

Sheppard rubbed Torren's back again. "I gotta go talk to Mr. Woolsey. You gonna be okay to stay here with Amelia?"

Torren sniffled. "When's Mommy gonna wake up?"

"It's probably gonna be a few more hours. Like, after supper. But I can come right back after I make my report."

Torren whined.

"That'll take maybe thirty minutes, bud. Promise."

"'Kay." Torren sniffled again and let go.

Dean knelt down as Sheppard stood. "Hey, Teej. We're not goin' anywhere without your mom. You know that, right?"

Torren nodded and hugged Dean.

"All right. Me and Sam, we got some stuff to take care of after we talk to Woolsey, but we'll see you at supper, maybe sooner."

"'Kay."

"And if you're real good for Miss Amelia, maybe I'll tell you about the time we got stuck in a sitcom. And then Sam got turned into a car."

"For reals?"

"Yeah. Story's a lot funnier now."

"As I recall, you thought the last part was pretty funny at the time," Sam retorted, and Dishon couldn't suppress a mental snort.

Dean just smiled. "So what do you think, TJ? 'S it a deal?"

Torren thought for a moment, then smiled. "Deal."

"Awesome." Dean hugged him again quickly, then tweaked his nose with a wink and stood.

"A _car_?" Sheppard echoed.

"I got better," Sam deadpanned and gave Torren a hug of his own.

Sheppard waited until they were in the transporter to continue. "Seriously? A car? What..."

"Gabriel," the brothers replied, and Dean punched the button for the Gateroom.

* * *

Exactly how Dishon managed to pull rank on Woolsey to get Dean out of any disciplinary action for stabbing Chaya, Sam didn't know. It had something to do with some dirt the Tok'ra had on the IOA, but Salim wasn't inclined to explain. The long and short of it was, though, that Dean wasn't in trouble and was on his way to check with McKay about the energy-beam devil's trap he was setting up via the shield generators. Sheppard was headed back to Torren, who was starting to get anxious again, and that left Sam to check in with Todd about the arrangements for the show they'd be putting on for the Wraith the next day.

On the iratus-infested Wraith homeworld.

"Do not worry!" Todd assured him. "I know the planet well enough to take us to the location without the slightest possibility of harm."

Sam rubbed his neck anxiously. "You sure we have to have the meeting there?"

"It is the closest thing to neutral ground that Wraith will recognize. No single hive may claim that planet; it is common to all. Any other location would fall within the territory of one hive or alliance, and we would be in grave danger from more than the iratus."

"Perhaps we should take salt water in super-soakers," Salim suggested. "That would ensure our safe passage."

Todd laughed, but when Sam ran the idea by Woolsey later, Woolsey thought it was the best idea he'd heard all day. And how he happened to know that Rivers had bought a super-soaker for Torren's birthday and never given it to him, Sam had no clue.

Now, the plan, as Sam understood it, was for Todd, Teyla, and the brothers to Gate to a neutral planet, where one of Todd's hives would pick them up and take them to the Wraith homeworld. There they'd set up a conference space in a clearing (surrounded by salt, Sam suggested and Todd agreed), and the Primaries from the other major alliances would show up to hear them out. Each queen was allowed one commander but no other warriors. Todd would do most of the talking, since he had the best grasp of how to explain the threat in terms the other Wraith would understand. Sam and Dean would be there mainly as visual specimens—which Sam translated as _eye candy_ and made Salim laugh heartily—and backup in case one of the other queens decided to try something. But everything depended on Teyla's ability to bluff past the other queens' guard.

Sam suddenly found himself as anxious as Torren was to have Teyla back with them.

"Dude," Dean said when they caught up with each other outside Banks' quarters. "What the hell are you nervous about? This can't be as bad as Detroit."

Sam huffed. "That's not the point, Dean. Yes, Lucifer's a whole lot scarier than even a dozen Wraith queens, but at least then we knew what we were getting into. And we weren't taking... anyone else with us."

"—You realize you almost called Teyla a civilian."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, Sam."

"I... I dunno. I guess it's just not knowing what she's gonna look like, whether she can carry it off."

"She's done it before. Fooled Todd's Primary."

"For what, two minutes?"

"_Sam_."

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

But the conversation was interrupted by Lorne calling in on the radio. "Message received and rejected," he reported. "We're heading back through this wormhole."

"Lorne, this is Sheppard," Sheppard replied. "Did you send Larrin?"

"She wasn't available, but Shiana was."

"Wow. Bet that was a shouting match."

"Not really. They hung up as soon as she said 'demons.'"

Brothers and Tok'ra snorted and chorused, "Idjits."

"I heard that!" Sheppard called, having first turned off his radio.

"We meant the Asgard," they called back as they walked into Banks' quarters to find Sheppard grinning, Banks fighting giggles, and Torren not even fighting.

"Man, we are batting .000 on the winning friends and influencing aliens front today," Dean continued. "Even the mist creatures on 224 had sense enough to find some way to bury their Gate when we told 'em what was going on."

Sheppard ruffled Torren's hair. "Asgard always have had an attitude when it comes to humans. At least Hermiod did."

"'S it supper time yet?" Torren asked.

Sheppard looked at his watch and shrugged. "Ah, close enough."

The five of them made their way to the mess hall, where Ronon and Lorne joined them just in time for Torren to wheedle the story about TVLand and the Sampala out of Dean (and _Sampala_ was one of those portmanteau words that struck Sam as just all kinds of wrong, even if Salim laughed uproariously). Then McKay and Zelenka showed up and started getting into all kinds of really technical explanations about this trap-generating plan Dean had signed off on, and Sam found it harder and harder to pay attention to his friends rather than worrying about the next day—about Teyla. He couldn't quit thinking through all the ways the plan could go wrong.

_Sam_, Salim suddenly barked.

Sam blinked. _What?_

_Why have you taken Torren's fear?_

The question startled Sam. He hadn't even been aware that was what he was doing. But Torren seemed to be having a grand old time now that he had most of his extended-by-choice family around him. And so was everyone else—except Dean, of course, who was keeping a wary eye on Sam.

Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, Dean, can I..." He jerked his head toward the exit.

Dean didn't look any less worried when he nodded. "Yeah, sure. 'Scuse us," he added for the rest of the table's benefit before following Sam out into the hallway. Once they were out of the general earshot, though, Dean grabbed Sam's arm. "Dude, what the hell is going on with you?"

Sam blew the air out of his cheeks. "Salim thinks I'm absorbing Torren's anxiety."

Dean blinked. "_How_?"

"Hell if I know. But you gotta admit, it makes some sense. And honestly, given the panic he was in earlier? Better me than him."

"Yeah, until you lose control of the EMF and start blowing out equipment left and right. Seriously, Sam—"

"Look, I don't even know _what_ I'm doing, never mind how to stop."

"Well, shove it off on Todd!"

"I don't know if I can!"

Dean shook his head as he half-turned away and ran a hand over his nose and mouth.

Sam sighed. "I'm sorry, Dean. At least it isn't visions this time," he added in an attempt at levity.

Dean huffed and shook his head again. "Dude, don't. Just don't." But he wasn't able to keep the corner of his mouth from twitching upward.

Before Sam could say anything else, though, he sensed Teyla beginning to surface from the anesthesia. "We'd better get back," he told Dean. "Teyla's waking up—on her own, I think."

Dean nodded and turned—just in time to catch Torren as he came barreling out of the mess hall. Just how Dean managed to sweep Torren up over his shoulder without even breaking stride was beyond Sam, but Torren barely had time to yelp before Dean was hauling him back to the team's table.

"But MOMMY!" Torren protested.

"She's not all the way awake yet, dude," Dean replied firmly. "We'll go see her when Jennifer says we can go see her and not before."

"Saaaam!"

Sam held up his hands as he followed. "He's right, Torren. And even if he weren't, I don't argue with him when he uses that voice."

Dean didn't have to turn around for Sam to know what incredulous expression he was wearing. "What are you talkin' about? You argued with _Dad_ when he used that voice."

"I meant _now_."

"Oh, whatever." And Dean tickled Torren's side for good measure.

Torren shrieked and squirmed and flailed, but he couldn't get away from Dean's grasp until Dean handed him to Ronon, who handed him to McKay, who handed him to Lorne, who handed him to Banks, who spun around with him three times before handing him off to Sheppard. At that point, Torren was giggling too hard to try to escape again. It was only about five minutes later that Keller called the lot of them up to the infirmary waiting room, and Sheppard had just finished reminding Torren that he needed to walk and stand next to Teyla's bed rather than following his usual flying tackle method when Keller let them in to see Teyla. Sheppard kept his hand on Torren's shoulder as they trooped into the room, and Torren did behave himself, neither pouncing on his mother nor freaking out at her new face.

And the new face was... somewhat disturbing. Sam hadn't been sure what to expect, but he didn't think he'd expected to see Teyla's dark skin turned Wraith greenish-grey, her short copper hair now long and black, her usually warm brown eyes hidden under yellow slit-pupiled contacts. She looked... well, she looked like a Wraith, which had been the whole point. And he didn't know whether he was more creeped out or relieved.

_Oh ye of little faith_, Salim teased.

"Mommy?" Torren prompted.

Teyla smiled. "Hi, baby boy," she replied quietly, her voice now flanged like a Wraith's but still gentle.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Still pretty sleepy and a little sore, but I'll be fine in a little while. Have you been good for Amelia?"

He nodded in turn. "I was scared, though. I couldn't hear you."

"I'm sorry, angel. The procedure just takes a long time. It'll be the same when Aunt Jennifer undoes it in a few days."

He took a deep breath and nodded again. "Okay."

"Now that you know, will you not be so scared?"

"I... I think so."

She caressed his cheek with her left hand. "That's my good, brave boy."

Dean looked away, and Sam wondered what he was imagining—or remembering.

"You gonna be good to go in the morning?" Sheppard asked.

Teyla nodded. "Yes. A good night's rest should be all I need. Todd will not have to instruct me this time, and I will have Sam and Dean as backup."

Dean blinked and looked back at her. "Instruct? Y'mean, Todd did the whole _My Fair Lady_ thing last time?"

It took Teyla a moment to place the reference, but when she did, she fought a smile briefly before replying with a remarkably good, "Just you wait, 'Enry 'Iggins!"

Everyone laughed, and Sam felt the last of his anxiety—or Torren's, or whatever—evaporate. They'd be as fine as they ever were.


	5. Ch 4: The Show Must Go On

A/N: And this chapter came together much faster than I expected! No promises on how soon the next update will come, alas, but I'm hoping it won't be too terribly long.

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Chapter 4  
The Show Must Go On

"My queen," Todd said with an exaggerated bow when he met Teyla at the infirmary door the next morning. He was teasing, she could tell, but she also knew he was pleased to see her in this get-up again. And given how well things had gone the last time she had played his queen (relatively speaking), she supposed she understood why.

"No murders this time, Commander," she shot back.

He bowed again, more seriously but still with a hint of a smile, and began walking her to the transporter. "It would be foolhardy to attempt a—Night of the Long Knives, do the humans of Earth call it? We could not hope to take control of so many hives at once, even were that my design."

"And you are not likely to be welcomed back among the Wraith, even were we inclined to allow you to leave Atlantis for more than this meeting. We can hide the effects of your gene therapy that long, but given what happened to Michael..."

He nodded. "Yes. I doubt my own alliance would accept the revised treatment, and the others never will. But that is not our concern, not until we can be sure that the demon threat has been stopped."

"Yes. Let us keep our attention there."

"By the way, we have not discussed suitable raiment for the Winchesters."

"What is usual for Wraith worshippers?"

"Most wear their own clothes and bear their own weapons. But such specimens as these might warrant a... different manner of display."

Teyla pondered that suggestion as she pressed the transporter button for the point closest to the brothers' quarters. "They are unique in Pegasus," she mused. "And their tattoos would raise necessary questions, not to mention the scar on Dean's shoulder." She was still speaking when the doors opened to reveal Sam and Dean standing outside.

She wasn't sure how much they'd heard when they looked at each other, but apparently it was enough for them to figure out at least part of what she had in mind, because Sam blushed and Dean groaned, "Oh, for—"

"Shirtless!" Teyla exclaimed, wishing the current state of her skin would allow her to blush. "That's all I meant. Please wear trousers!"

Sam blinked. "What, like our BDU pants?"

"Or jeans. Jeans are not likely to be identifiable as Atlantis issue."

"Of course," Todd broke in mildly, "I could attempt to find you raiment from the stores of the hive..."

The brothers looked at each other again and said, "Jeans."

Fifteen minutes later, the four of them headed down to the Gateroom together, with Sam toting the salt-water gun and Dean tucking his hand device into his back pocket and insisting that he be allowed to keep his black undershirt on until they got settled on the planet. Fifteen minutes after that, they were in hyperspace, with Dishon snarling in Goa'uld at the first scientist who questioned where Teyla had been for so long and Salim providing backup by aiming the salt-water gun as if it were a P-90. If the risk of a potential mutiny were not so high, Teyla would have laughed at the bluff. But it worked, and the team settled into the queen's quarters to wait through the two-hour hyperspace flight to the Wraith homeworld.

Because the only way to get from the hive to the surface of the planet was by Dart, the team couldn't arrive exactly at the clearing where Todd had told the other queens to meet them. But he was as good a guide as he had promised to be, and while Teyla was aware that there were iratus bugs nearby and Sam held the salt-water gun ready just in case, he never had to spray anything. The Wraith warriors set up the meeting site quickly and even set a thick salt circle at the perimeter when Todd asked them to. Then, at his command, the warriors left, and Teyla sank down into the armless wooden chair that had been designated for her.

As Sam slid the salt-water gun under Teyla's chair from the left side, Dean sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "So now what?" he asked her. "They didn't bring down enough chairs. We supposed to stand, sit, kneel?"

Teyla considered the question. "On Earth, queens often have guard dogs seated beside their thrones, do they not?"

The brothers blinked and looked at each other, this time seeming to have an entire silent conversation. Then Sam cleared his throat. "You, um... want us to kneel like this?" Turning to face the center of the circle as she was, he knelt with both knees touching the ground and his rear resting on his heels. Then he leaned forward so that his shoulder was about at the height of a comfortable chair arm and looked over at her, then up at Todd.

"Head bowed," Todd recommended, "and with your arms behind you as if they are bound. In fact, I ought to tie your wrists loosely, and I should probably blindfold you as well."

Dean looked skeptical, but Teyla nodded. "The other queens will not understand the nature of the Tok'ra at first, and even when it is explained, they may view you only as an unfamiliar threat. Your submission must be visible from the start."

Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam huffed. "Dean, c'mon. It's not like we'll be in chains. We're just... guard dogs. Or guard Tok'ra. Or... whatever."

"Yeah, says the Shaggy DA." Dean walked away for a moment, stopped, and suddenly said, "Oh, no. No—no—_hell_, no, we are _not_ telling Lisa!"

Sam nearly choked trying not to laugh.

Dean seemed to argue with Dishon for a moment longer before stripping off his T-shirt and stomping back over to the right side of Teyla's chair with a look of extreme annoyance. He knelt, then used the shirt to cover the salt-water gun and glared over at Todd. "You're not usin' my shirt for blindfolds."

Todd grinned and held up a handful of dark fabric that he'd probably had hidden up his sleeve.

Dean huffed. "Just... get it over with."

Todd nodded and started with Sam, binding his eyes fairly tightly but putting only a loose knot in the bond around Sam's wrists. "There. That should be easy enough to get out of, wouldn't you say?"

Sam felt for the end of the strip of cloth near his hand and nodded. "Yeah, I think that's good. How's it look, Teyla?"

"It looks convincing," Teyla reported. "From a distance, it will look like you are tied securely."

"Dunno how we're supposed to be guard dogs if we're tied up like this," Dean grumbled, but Dishon took over and held still while Todd applied the blindfold and wrist bond, moving only to make sure he could still reach the hand device with his left hand.

"Well, aren't most guard dogs kept on a short leash anyway?" Sam replied as Todd worked. "At least in a setup like this, they're more for intimidation than anything. And if Teyla's supposed to show no weakness... well, having guys like us on a short leash is pretty much the opposite of weak. Besides, after what happened with Chaya, Woolsey's probably going to be a lot happier with us tied up and not making more enemies."

"That would be inadvisable," Dishon agreed. "And the bonds truly are only for show."

"Whatever," Dean grumbled after Dishon gave back control. "Let's just get this over with."

Teyla put her right hand on his shoulder, pushed gently until he was leaning forward at the correct angle, and then rubbed a little, being careful not to brush the handprint scar that covered the muscle. But doing so made her realize that she'd overlooked something. "Oh, I've just thought—feeding marks."

Dean shook his head. "Now that, I can tell you. We don't scar as Tok'ra. Probably be hard to dope us up with enough enzyme to make us compliant, too, but the others don't need to know that."

She sighed in relief and squeezed his shoulder briefly. "Thank you."

But then there was no more time for talk. Todd scanned the skies and reported, "Another hive approaches."

"I'm gonna kel'no'reem," said Sam. "Not deep, but enough that the queens shouldn't know I've got a Wraith Radio scanner."

Todd frowned. "A what?"

Teyla ignored him. "That's a good idea. Humans from Earth do not have the Gift."

"Thought we were supposed to be big, bad Tok'ra," Dean snarked.

Sam probably rolled his eyes. "Dude, shut up. Teyla, just squeeze my shoulder if you need me."

Teyla nodded, though he couldn't see it. "Understood."

Sam took a deep breath and let it out again, and his muscles relaxed slightly as he slid into a meditative state. Dean settled but did not relax, so Teyla decided to keep her hand on his shoulder for the moment. She drew and released a deep breath of her own. And then the whine of Darts began to herald the arrival of the other queens.

"You're okay, Teyla," Dean whispered. "We've got your back."

She smiled slightly and squeezed his shoulder again. Then she took another deep breath and stood as the first queen, one of the taller red-haired variety, entered the clearing with her second.

"What are _they_ doing here?" this queen snarled, looking at the Winchesters.

"They are the reason for this meeting," Teyla returned. "I thought it advisable for them to be present, as they have information that all need to hear."

Two more queens joined them, one with white hair and one with black. Together the three queens circled Sam and Dean, examining them from all sides and sniffing—but not touching, thank the Ancestors.

"They are not human," the white-haired queen remarked. "What are they?"

"Tok'ra," Teyla replied. "We captured them in Earth's galaxy."

All three queens looked up at her. "You have been to Earth?" the black-haired queen asked sharply.

"We have, and there is great danger there that may have followed us. That is why we returned and why I requested this meeting."

"You lie! You wish the feeding ground all to yourself!"

Teyla glanced toward Todd, who stepped in front of her. "The feeding ground may be rich, o queens, but there is a predator there that preys on all forms of life, including Wraith. Not even the Ascended are safe from this threat. We will explain everything once all have arrived."

The black-haired queen hissed, but the white-haired queen turned to Dean. "You, Tok'ra. Is this so?"

Dishon took over, probably to prevent whatever snarl Dean had been preparing. "It is true. The demons will spare no one. This scar on my shoulder was made when a greater being even than they rescued me from them."

"And the mark on your chest? Is that the mark of the Tok'ra?"

"No. It is for protection against demons."

"Come sit," Teyla interrupted. "My commander will explain as he has promised once the others have arrived."

The black-haired queen hissed again, but the other queens nodded to each other and sat down, and finally the black-haired queen joined them. Each queen's commander stood behind her. Soon more queens arrived, and all circled Sam and Dean before taking their own seats. But Teyla got the sense that they were all too suspicious of each other to try anything.

Once everyone was settled, Teyla began the speech she had prepared with Todd's help. "We have all been anxious to find Earth for some years now. But that desire was a mistake, and not only because Earth has greater defenses than most planets in this galaxy. There is, as I have told some of you, a type of predator on Earth that seeks to devour all life, including Wraith. Though my hive escaped, the demons may try to follow us. That is why I have requested this meeting, to share with you the nature of the threat and the means of defending against it."

A queen who looked a little like Todd's former Primary narrowed her eyes. "Why would you do so? You cannot trust us, any more than we trust you. Why would you seek to save your enemies from a threat that could eliminate them and leave you to rule the galaxy?"

"Because that threat also threatens me. Like Replicators, they will seek to destroy us all, humans and Wraith. But worse than Replicators, they wish to devour and enslave—their plan is worse than death."

"How so?"

Teyla gestured toward Todd. "My commander will explain."

Todd stepped forward, bowed, and began to lecture as if he'd studied demons all his life. Teyla tuned him out; she knew the information already and wasn't particularly interested in how it was framed for a Wraith's perspective. Instead, she kept an eye on the other queens. Most were warily curious and asked perceptive questions, but the black-haired queen who'd arrived early still looked ready to murder them for withholding the coordinates to Earth.

Finally, that queen could contain herself no longer. "Enough, enough, ENOUGH!" she roared. "They lie, they lie! They want Earth for themselves!"

"It is not safe!" Teyla shouted.

"I do not believe you. I _cannot_ believe you! TELL US WHERE EARTH IS!" She leapt out of her chair and lunged toward Teyla.

Sam didn't move, but before Teyla could even put her hand on his shoulder, the black-haired queen froze in mid-stride. Quiet gasps and palpable shock rippled around the circle.

"My queen," Dishon said softly to Teyla, "close your mind."

"You want to know the truth?" Sam asked the queen in his telekinetic grasp. "I'll show you the damn _truth_."

Teyla raised her mental guard swiftly and focused all her energy on keeping it strong, yet she could still sense the barrage of memories Sam unleashed through the mind-link. She couldn't actually see anything, but given the screams that reached her mind as through a locked door and a distant corridor, she assumed he must be showing the other queens Hell. They gasped and struggled, but Sam would not relent. After a moment, Dean leaned over and put his head in Teyla's lap, grounding her. She rubbed his back gratefully.

"ENOUGH!" shrieked the red-haired queen who'd been the first to arrive. "Make him stop! MAKE HIM STOP!"

With an effort, Teyla put her left hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed.

The mental bombardment stopped, but Sam didn't release the queen that had tried to attack Teyla. "That was a preview," he snarled. "That was barely a _taste_. I've got 140 years or more of memories locked up in here, and even that would only be scratching the surface. Those demons, they want to do that to you for _eternity_. You've all been alive a long time—thousands of years, some of you tens of thousands. You're all capable of dying, but you don't want to. And I get that, I do. But in Hell, you _cannot_ die. You live through that horror day after day until you forget what it's like to live anything else. You'll forget the sky. You'll forget the stars. You'll forget the freedom of roaming the galaxy, of feeding your appetites, of indulging your curiosity. No one will bow to you. No one will pray to you. No one will beg you for mercy. And there's no end. No relief. No way out. You'll be _nothing_—and you _will not die_."

"You escaped," breathed a different red-haired queen with a line of tattoos down one side of her neck.

"Our circumstances were different. My brother was rescued, and I fell into Hell physically. I couldn't have made it out if I hadn't been Tok'ra, and as it was, I barely survived."

Dean sat up. "It's true. He was in real rough shape when he got back."

Teyla squeezed Sam's shoulder again. "Sam. Let her go."

The black-haired queen shook suddenly, as if Sam had jostled her as a parting shot, and then stumbled forward as he released her. She caught herself before she could fall but still struggled to keep up her façade of invulnerability as she straightened. So Teyla decided to play it safe and tapped the side of her thumb against Dean's left shoulder blade, then moved her hand back to his shoulder to cover his slight shift as he pushed his left hand into his back pocket and into the hand device.

When the black-haired queen regained her equilibrium, though, she didn't try to charge Teyla again. Instead, she paced across to stand in front of Sam, doing her best to restrain any noise that might give away her position. Sam didn't move, and the black-haired queen smirked briefly before snarling, "I shall teach you to show respect, Tok'ra filth!"

But as her right hand came up, so did Dean's left. The motion caught her eye, and she hissed and hesitated long enough for the bolt from the hand device to catch her squarely in the chest and send her flying backward. Teyla didn't even have to help Dean aim.

"My queen!" bellowed the black-haired queen's commander as he raced around her chair to aid her.

The queen, however, gasped and wheezed a few times before using the commander as leverage to surge back to her feet. "You treacherous, witless _worm!_" she screamed at Dean.

"I barely hurt you," Dean shot back. "You're lucky I didn't blow your head off. But you come after my brother again, and I _will_ kill you."

Teyla moved her hand to caress the back of Dean's neck. "Dean. Enough. We are here to talk, not to fight."

The muscle in Dean's jaw twitched, but he put his left arm back where it had been and shifted closer to her chair.

But though he couldn't see it, the Wraith who had heard Dishon speak earlier were staring at him in confusion. "You speak like the humans of Atlantis," noted the black-haired queen's commander.

Dean snorted. "Do I _look_ like I'm from Atlantis?"

Sam's head dropped forward as Salim took over. "We come from a planet called Vorash," Salim lied, and the Wraith's confusion increased further. "Our people and our world were destroyed by our enemies, but this most gracious queen offered us her protection. We are eternally grateful to her."

"What is the meaning of this?" the first red-haired queen demanded. "Why do you speak with two voices?"

"We are two souls who share this body, symbiotes. I am Salim"—he broke off and returned control—"and I'm Sam," Sam finished. "The fact that we can share makes this relationship a lot different from demon possession. When a human is possessed by a demon, the demon soul prevents the human from having any control at all."

"You speak as though you yourself have been possessed."

Sam nodded. "I have. Twice. The first time was before we got these tattoos. The second time... well, Lucifer is _the _Devil, the father of all demons. He was too strong to be stopped by the sigil."

"But that's why Sam was in Hell," Dean added. "He locked Lucifer in a cage that should hold him for the foreseeable future, so all we're left with are the normal garden-variety stunt demons that _can_ be stopped with salt and devil's traps."

"And you did all this from Vorash?" asked the second red-haired queen.

"Uh, no, Vorash was destroyed. We were operating out of another planet called Revanna."

"I thought demons were from Earth."

"Lucifer wanted to rule the entire universe," Sam stated flatly. "Some of the demons still do. That's the problem."

Another white-haired queen who hadn't spoken much stood. "Well. This has all been most enlightening. I believe we ought all to return to our own ships and consider what use to make of the information we have received."

The other queens murmured their agreement and left rather quickly.

But this white-haired queen stayed behind until the others were out of earshot. Then she walked up to Teyla and the Winchesters. "You do not fool me, humans," she said. "You are from Earth—your speech betrays you. Yet the rest of what you say is true?"

Sam cleared his throat and fidgeted. "Yeah. It's true."

She studied him, then moved to Dean and studied him for a moment before taking off his blindfold. Forcing him to look her in the eye, she ordered, "Show me your brother's possession."

Dean snarled and obeyed. Teyla slammed shut her mental doors again, but not before getting a glimpse of Sam in a rose garden, wearing a white suit and standing with a posture that was totally unlike the Sam she knew. This time it was Sam who put his head in her lap, but shame and sorrow rolled off of him in waves as she ran her hand over his hair.

The memory Dean replayed for the white queen took several minutes, and whatever it was rattled her badly. "What's the matter?" Dean jeered as she staggered backward. "Not in the habit of believing six impossible things before breakfast?"

She backhanded him, though Teyla suspected it was more reflex than anything, and stalked away with her second in tow. Shortly thereafter they heard the Darts leaving. Teyla heaved a sigh of relief and put one arm around each brother's shoulders.

Dean finally relaxed against her. "I can't believe that worked."

Sam slipped out of his wrist bond and pulled his blindfold off. "Dean? What did you—"

"The one from 2014."

"The one where I killed you?!"

Dean looked over at him. "The one that _won't happen_."

"Dean..."

"Sam."

And that was the end of it. Sam ran a hand over his mouth and nodded. Dean nodded back once and pulled on his shirt.

"We should not linger," Todd stated. "It will not be long before night falls."

Sam nodded and grabbed the salt-water gun, and Dean stood and helped Teyla to her feet just as the warrior Wraith returned and began carrying away the chairs. But the brothers restrained themselves from doing more until the team was back on the ship and alone in the queen's quarters. Then and only then did first Sam, then Dean, pull her into a hug.

"You doin' okay?" Dean asked as he released her, rubbing her shoulder.

Teyla nodded. "Yes. I'm glad you were with me. I think it went much better than I had dared to hope."

"At least in some respects," said Todd with a wary glance at Sam.

"Oh, man, don't even," Sam groaned. "You didn't have to watch. You'd already seen some of that."

Dean turned. "Hey, Todd, you got any food fit for humans on this hunk o' junk?"

Todd's lip curled, but he replied, "I shall see," and left.

Teyla sighed. "Pay him no mind, Sam. I admit that the little I was unable to keep out of my own mind was disturbing, but I'm glad you did what you did. Both of you."

Both brothers sighed and nodded, and Dean rubbed her shoulder again.

Then Sam frowned and straightened his shoulders. "Hey, y'know... if Wraith don't believe in Heaven or Hell or anything... what's gonna happen when those queens go back to their hives and start trying to figure out what to do with what we told them? I mean, are their subordinates gonna think they're crazy?"

Dean blinked. "You thinkin'... mutiny? Conspiracies?"

"Palace intrigue, yeah, that kind of thing. Could be so busy killing each other they won't have time to guard against the Lucian Alliance."

"Or could be so busy killing each other that it won't matter."

"I doubt the Wraith will succeed in wiping each other out before the demons can reach this galaxy," Teyla replied. "But if even a few human lives were saved by what we did today, I'd say that makes it worth the risk and the heartache."

"I knew I liked you for a reason," said Dean and hugged her again.


End file.
